Trust
by DarkPhoenix7
Summary: Whom can AR Potter turn to when she can't even trust her closest companions? Will she find the strength to continue living when she is left broken? Grey, Fem Harry; Unexpected pairing in later chapters; Warnings etc. in 1. Chapter
1. Chapter 1

**Trust**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own either the story of HP 1 – 7 or its characters.

**Summary: **Whom can AR Potter turn to when she can't even trust her closest companions? Will she find the strength to continue living when she is left broken? Fem HP

**Warnings: **AU, OC-ness, Fem HP violence, mature content, mention of rape (or explicit, I'm not sure yet)

**Pairings:** I'm not saying. For you to find out, you will need to read it.

**Compliancy: **HP 1 – 5 (except the death of SB at the end of OotP – I need him for this story to work out); starts at the beginning of the 7th year

**AN: **Dear readers, don't worry about me not finishing my other story, "True Identity", for I'm not about to leave it hanging before it got really started ;) but this plot hangs in my head and just doesn't budge. To clear my mind a little, I decided to put it on paper also and I will update both of my stories as my muse and time allows. Please don't be disappointed if you have to wait for several weeks.

Concerning this story: the point of view will definitely change and I will only write "sb's POV" if you so desire it. Otherwise I will leave it as it is.

As always, reviews are welcomed and very much appreciated.

* * *

**1. Chapter - Defeated**

"_Trust instinct to the end, even though you can give no reason." _

_(__R. W. Emerson)_

It is September the 1st and I am already looking forward to July. I don't mean to say that I particularly enjoy the two summer months without the wretched imbeciles but it is quiet. Let me re-word it, it is quiet when I am not summoned by either of my masters.

I am not really sure which I hate more, the twinkling old man or the sadistic snake-face. They do both make my life a living hell and there is nothing more to it. One might be the 'Dark Lord' and the other 'Light' however from my perspective there is no difference between them. They are both in a place of power. They are both manipulative and most importantly, they are both equally insane. Maybe not in the exact same way – you don't go to the Dark Lord expecting lemon drops, now do you? – but insane all the same.

Enough about that. As I said, it is the night of the welcoming feast at Hogwarts, my dungeons are to be invaded by dunderheads just in few short hours and disturb not only my peace but also my perfectly clean classroom.

There is only one thought which makes me feel better. It is the last year of Potter's career at this phenomenal institution. In just about ten months we will, hopefully, see the back of her.

People usually think that I hate her. I don't. I do not especially like her but hate is just a too strong emotion to describe my feelings towards her. Some accuse me of seeing her idiotic father instead of her. I admit this statement might be partially true but even I am not so blind as to mistake her for her sire. For one Alessandra Rosaline Potter is a female. Apart from that she isn't a bully like her dearest father. May he rest in peace.

But I digress, the last remaining Potter has brought me more gray hair over the years than the whole school body AND my masters combined. I knew it wasn't a good idea to promise my one and only friend to protect her daughter no matter what, however, even I didn't suspect what I would have to protect her from. Dragons, possessed men, crazy bludgeons, cursed brooms, just to name a few.

I just hope that this year turns out to be the one I could sit back in my armchair by a fireplace with a good bock about potions or shut myself in my lab. Wouldn't it be nice if Dumbles and Voldy suddenly decided they love each other madly and Potter would grow a brain and study for once instead of hunting the halls in the dead of night?

...

I know but a man can dream...

* * *

All the teachers except for Minerva and Hagrid are assembled in the Great Hall and waiting for the students. Many are smiling, excited about seeing their favourites and meeting the new potentials. Some are nervous, especially the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The old coot introduced her to us at a meeting the week previous but I didn't deem it necessary to remember her name. She looks like a mouse. In the very least it is highly unlikely that she would reveal a dark wizard sticking from the back of her skull, though I fear employing her is a complete waste of money. The students won't learn anything. But that is, sadly, nothing new.

As for me, I really hope the miscreants get in here soon and Dumbles doesn't force all of us to listen to his annual ramblings. Sometimes I suspect he really enjoys listening to himself.

But I digress again. I am looking forward to returning to my rooms and pooring myself a nice glass of Fire-whiskey. In my mind I see the golden liquid flowing into my glass, swirling around it. The smell of smoke reaches my nostrils and I breathe in the unmistakable flavour of the sweet liquor. As I am about to empty the glass into my waiting mouth the main door into the Great Hall opens wide and a stream of loud, obnoxious teenagers streams in.

I sigh internally in disappointment and school my features into my trademark sneer. The hooligans make their way to their respective table while swapping stories about their summer in loud voices. I smirk at the thought of the first class I have prepared for the idiots and my smirk widens when I notice a second year Hufflepuff shudder in fear and turn away quickly. Sometimes it is so easy intimidating children.

In my career as a professor there hasn't been a student who wouldn't wisen up by the end of second or third year, at the latest, and turn amicable in my presence. Except Potter, of course. I dare say that her temper hasn't improved in her six years in my classroom. I confess that I don't make it easy for her to keep quiet in my presence but it is so much _fun_ riling her up. Plus I always need people cleaning cauldrons and my classroom and, admittedly, she is one of the best at the job. In addition it makes it easier for me to continually dislike her.

There has always been fire inside her, in her green eyes. Especially when I made her lose control and so it is a shock seeing her with her head down, shoulders slumped.

She has always been thin but this year her clothes hang on her even more than usual. Her face is deathly pale and her long unkempt hair falling into her face, hiding it.

I search the crowd for the rest of the Golden Trio and sure, there, just few steps in front of her, I see the red head of the Weasley boy and the brown main of the know-it-all. They are talking with each other and now and then shooting worried glances at their friend, though she either doesn't notice or ignores them.

Potter follows them to their seats at the Gryffindor table and I am once again surprised when she flinches violently as Finnegan comes up to her and throws his arms around her in greeting. Over-friendly Gryffindors.

While neither he nor any of the other lions notices, I do as does Dumbledore. I wonder what this is about. The old coot does look like he knows what that is about and from the wrinkles on his forehead I can tell he is slightly concerned. This only makes me wonder harder.

What is going on here?

Potter looks like she spent a summer in hell not at her relatives or with her dogfather and his pet wolf. From our Occlumency lessons I know that her home-life isn't as perfect as I have always assumed but she had spent more than a half of the holidays at headquarters with the mutt and so I would have expected her to be well-fed and happy, not... defeated looking, for there is no other word for it. Even after whole two months at her relative's house she has never come to Hogwarts so scrawny or depressed.

What the hell happened?

I watch her from the corner of my eye as the headmaster welcomes the students and the first years march in to be sorted. I listen with half an ear for the names of the students who will join my house and screen them for possible abuse victims. There are none this year. Or none that I can spot right away. This makes my heart a little lighter but I still know there are many snakes who need to be taken care of.

As this goes through my mind I notice that Potter doesn't pay attention to the sorting. Instead she is looking down at the table as if wondering why she can't be an inanimate object as well.

When the food appears and all the dunderheads resume their conversations from before she serves herself some potatoes and vegetables and pokes in her plate with only few bits of dry potato finding their way into her mouth.

When the Finnegan boy says something which makes the people in hearing range laugh, she turns green and quickly puts her bony hand in front of her mouth. For a minute I worry the meagre meal she has just consumed would make a re-appearance at the Gryffindor table but she manages.

I confess to be... concerned. I know it is highly awkward and you wouldn't be able to force it out of me even with Veritaserum as no Snape is concerned for Potter but I have to be honest with myself if I can't be with anyone else. I could close my eyes to what I see and just say that she pretends it all. That she is just trying to get more attention as if not enough people were pining after her but I don't and so I recognise the genuine signs of depression and I ask myself again: What the HELL happened to her?

As a spy who is trusted by both sides I know perfectly well that the Dark Lord hasn't put any of his schemes to eliminate his enemy into action and Dumbledore wouldn't hurt his little weapon, now would he? So the reason for the state of her mind is a complete mystery to me.

But as I see it if Potter doesn't get better, there might be no more weapon for the 'Light side' or enemy to defeat for the 'Dark' one.

As if she has sensed my eyes on her, she raises her head and stares at me and I can't help it. I am so shocked at what I see that a part of my shock shows on my normally blank face.

There are dark, nigh black circles under her eyes from many sleepless nights and they stand out more on her thin, white face. However what makes my heart nearly stop are her eyes.

Yes defeated is the right word to describe her. There is no more fire in her eyes. They are dull. Lifeless. If I didn't know better, I would assume she was a victim of a Dementor's kiss.

After a few seconds of staring unblinkingly into my eyes she returns her gaze to her uneaten plate and I can't help but wonder how no one has noticed the drastic change in her. Why is nobody doing something to help her? Are the idiots really just sitting back and waiting for her to save their ungrateful asses once more?

Suddenly I know. This is no mere depression over some silly little thing. No. She doesn't fight anymore. She has given up and with a surprising clarity I know that this year will be the hardest yet. For it is easy to save somebody from monsters and insane Lords but how do you save somebody from themselves?


	2. Chapter 2

**2. Chapter – Circles**

„_Those you trust the most can steal the most."_

_(L. Lief)_

I used to be happy, no ecstatic to come to Hogwarts and return here after every summer at the Dursley's. The castle has, so far, proven to be the safest place for me, however this year I feel relieved and at the same time a little apprehensive. Relieved because I am finally in a place I can call home and be (relatively) safe; apprehensive because I can't help but fear that something will come my way and destroy the feeling of security. As if I weren't already lying on the ground...

When I look at the other students, my schoolmates, my friends I sense the growing distance between us. How can they be so naive? How can they laugh, joke around, smile and be totally at ease with themselves? Why are they worrying about their latest crushes, the upcoming lessons and exams or even clothes?

How do they not see what is happening around them?

How do they hold onto their innocence?

I can't bear to watch them for long and immerse myself in my little bubble. I have become quite the profi of 'zoning out' as Sirius calls it. Well yes. What can I do when I can't deal with the world anymore? It won't stop spinning just because some unimportant little girl has had enough.

I know my best friends suspect ther is something wrong with me but I don't want them to know. I don't want anybody to know about...

_No! Don't think about it!_

I am sure they will come around. They have been shouting each other glances all last year and it won't take much for them to realise their feelings for each other. They will be distracted enough and if not, well Hermione loves books and as for Ron – he would never say no to a round of Quidditch or something.

I am grateful that neither of my housemates noticed my reaction to Seamus' greeting. Though I wonder whether they would have found it suspicious if they saw or not for two reasons. One, people tend to see what they want to see, especially when the person concerned is some highly idolised figure. Two, I have never liked physical contact. I did endure it and got used to the friendly pats on my back and even the rare hug here and there but now I actively shed away from any kind of touching... Now, I positively hate it.

It's just too much.

Will I ever get over it?

I felt someone staring at me during the sorting and dinner. When I met the pitch black eyes of the resident Potions Master I wasn't very surprised. What did make me pause was the expression on his face. I couldn't find his usual sneer when facing me, nor the disdain I was so familiar with. No there was just shock and something I couldn't quite pinpoint. Was it concern?

How silly of me... Concern for the Potter spawn on dear Severus Snape's face? Surely the globe is still rotating in the same direction.

But the shock – do I really look so different? Do I look so bad for even Snape to forget his act?

I don't know. I haven't looked in the mirror since the night I left Privet Drive for the last time. Since then bile would rise up whenever I so much as glance at my reflection. I probably look like mess but I don't care. I am even glad for it. It gives me, in the very least, the illusion of safety. Not that it really helped...

You must be so happy to see me broken, Snape. Have you not wished for years to see me fall? Your wish was granted and if you knew...

The irony of it...

I would laugh if I could. But I can't and I don't care for the image of the 'Golden Girl' anymore. What has it ever done for me except of hurting me? Sometimes I think that I am a better actress then I should be.

When I was younger I even pretended to fool myself, however, in the end of the day I am no heroin nor am I innocent. I have been broken many times before and always patched the pieces back together somehow.

This time, I have been shattered.

My thoughts are going in a circle but I must not stop thinking because then the nightmares will come. I listen to the other girls in my dormitory breathe deeply in and out and it calms me a little.

_I am safe here_, I repeat to myself over and over as some kind of mantra. Maybe I will convince myself if I repeat it often enough. Maybe then I will be able to lie down on my red four poster bed and sleep through the night without the closet monsters making an appearance in my dreams as the other girls seem to be able to.

I need to get some sleep because I won't be able to go on for much longer. But I don't want to sleep. I am afraid.

What would a boggart now turn into if I were to face one? Somehow I doubt I would come face to face with a dementor. There are much worse things than fear...

I am just so tired. I don't feel seventeen. Not at all. I feel hundred. If the Dreamless Sleeping potion worked at least,... but no such luck. Maybe I have taken it too often so that I have built up a resistance or the horrors of my life are just too strong for the potion to be enough.

I force my attention back to the book on blood wards I 'borrowed' from Grimmauld Place. It is a very interesting subject and it manages to keep me occupied for many hours.

I fall asleep at dawn from pure exhaustion but by seven I am bolting upright in my bed, sweating and gasping for breath. There aren't any tears streaming down my face. I haven't really cried since I was four and realised that tears will bring me nothing but more sorrow.

When I am, once again, able to supply my body with enough oxygen, I thank the inventor of Silencing charms. I take a quick shower and use a drying charm on myself and then wait for the rest of the girls to wake up behind the privacy of my curtains. I continue studying the book about the wards and when Hermione finishes her morning routine, I square my shoulders, take my book bag and leave the safety of my bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Chapter – Frustrated**

„_Men trust their ears less than their eyes." _

_(Herodotus)_

For once I curse the fact that the seventh year N.E.W.T.s students have their first potions lesson on Friday morning for there isn't a plausible reason for me to confront the Potter girl about her current behaviour unless she misbehaves which I rather doubt . On the other hand it allows me the time to watch her during the short time she spends in the Great Hall for meals for some kind of clue.

Most unfortunately, she gives nothing away. What happened to the arrogant Potter brat whom I could read like an open book?

I had nothing to go on. I could speculate but there were so many options as to what could have happened that I didn't dare presume anything.

She follows the Weasley boy and the know-it-all around but keeps a slight gap between them. When she is spoken to, she gives one-word answers, otherwise remains silent. By the end of the week I get used to seeing her carrying some thick book or other and often being buried in its contents. It looks like I got a part of my wish fulfilled – she is definitely more studious than previously.

The sad thing is it doesn't make me happy at all. The wretched, arrogant girl should be goofing around with her two goons, causing some mayhem or other and not be quiet, pretending to be invisible.

After monitoring what actually makes its way from her plate into her mouth, I have to keep myself from frowning. I really hope she visits the kitchens despite the fact it is against the school rules but my instincts tell me that the few spoonfuls she eats, which wouldn't feed an infant, are the only energy she lives on.

The imbecilic girl has been starving herself. How long I don't know.

In an attempt to find out more about Potter, I even sacrifice Wednesday evening by going into the teacher's lounge where the majority of the teachers tend to meet to correct the student's assignments or homework and to discuss possible student related difficulties with the other colleagues or to swap the newest gossips with each other.

I hate these sort of gatherings and mindless mingling. I very much prefer the quiet and solitude of my dungeon quarters, thank you very much. Therefore, I believe this evening to be a very big sacrifice on my part and am already considering possible revenge against Potter but figuring out what is going on and (possibly) saving Potter must take precedence.

My dear colleagues don't know anything about the change in Potter. Some of them don't even realise there is something off about her this year. Others, like Minerva and Pomona, are gushing about her improvement in their respective lessons. They are so oblivious.

Honestly, am I surrounded by idiots or is in this institution at least one more person with eyes and a functioning brain?

And the headmaster doesn't count. He is insane, after all and has refused to comment on his depressive 'Golden Girl'.

At eleven at night I finally decide to retreat for this endeavour proves to be futile.

Translation – I am close to losing my temper with the fools and am certain Lemon Drop wouldn't be happy with me if I killed some of his staff and/or destroyed the castle, so that I wisely choose to retreat to my territory for a drink or two.

But the liquor doesn't help much (not that I expect it to) and I find myself in dire need of visiting my training room.

After destroying several dozens of conjured glass figurines of Potter, Dumbles, the Dark Lord, my colleagues on all sides of the war and both of the mutts I feel decidedly better. I vanish the remains of my frustration and return to my quarters to get some much needed sleep.

* * *

When the ten students of my N.E.W.T class enter my classroom I am already waiting for them. My four snakes incline their head in the usual way of greeting. The three Ravenclaws in this class actually mutter "Good morning, professor", the lone Hufflepuff and the Granger girl follow suit. The last to enter is the object of my present frustration, the hunched form of Potter. She merely raises her head, sweeps her gaze over me and walks without further ado to her usual seat at the back of the class where she joins her housemate.

To my raising frustration, I cannot read her. I don't know whether I am imagining things but she seems impossibly even paler than on Monday and definitely two pounds lighter. With the amount of food she consumes, it's no wonder.

The possibility of sparing Voldemort the job of killing her becomes probability.

She will do it herself.

How can Dumbledore ignore this? Her scrawness. Her paleness taking slowly a gray tinge on. Her dull eyes framed by the dark circles and thick lashes.

While she prepares her books, parchment and quills on her desk, I sweep my eyes over the rest of the dunderheads. My gaze comes to stop on the Malfoy Heir. Once more I feel such a relief at the realisation that I got just in time out of being his godfather when I was initially asked by Lucius. I always thought my old classmate to be arrogant and spoilt but his son's haughtiness knows no bounds.

I digress, what causes me to watch the boy is the expression on his face. While the students are quietly preparing their places or reading in the books, Malfoy is studying Potter intently. This wouldn't be a reason for suspicion. However, the cold grey eyes with a hint of lust and greed make my instincts scream in alarm.

With the sound of the bell announcing the beginning of our lesson, I catch the light smirk grazing the boy's lips as he turns to the front. I mentally add one more thing to my To-Do list – watch Malfoy. It's not like I don't have to do anything.

I suppress a sigh and start today's lecture on poisons and antidotes. I threaten the morons with drinking their own concoctions if they don't turn out perfectly (as if I would actually dare to do it. There is always so much paperwork when the imbeciles are injured that it is not worth it but hey, a good teacher always gives his students some incentive to do their best.) with a pointed glare in Potter's direction. Though I am sure she listens to me, she doesn't meet my glance. Instead her gaze is directed somewhere over my right shoulder.

Seems I will have to make more of an effort. No matter.

I give them the instruction for today's poison, The Paralysation Draught, and take seat behind my desk to dissect the summer homework from the fourth years and to monitor the progress of the brewing. I don't expect many mistakes from my students not only because, after six years, they know I don't accept any but because those are the most adequate brewers from their year.

I know, it is disappointing that such idiots like Granger, Potter, the Hufflepuff Macmillan or even Malfoy are to be considered the best but, though I have no idea how, they all achieved Outstanding in their O.W.L.s at the end of their fifth year and I had no other option than to accept them into my advanced class.

For someone like me, who has spent daily (as well as nightly) hours and hours standing in front of a cauldron, it is easy to spot when someone else is not merely following brewing instructions but who understands The Art of Potion Making and literally makes the brewing into an Art in itself. Therefore, I could tell that Alessandra Potter was well on her way to mastering The Art.

Compared to her previous work, her meticulous preparation of the necessary ingredients for the draught is – it pains me to admit – an incredible improvement. She must have spent the majority of the summer brewing for such a progress doesn't come without any effort. I just wondered what she had been concocting and why.

I remarked that the questions concerning her person grew in quantity quite rapidly and I had no answers and very little hope of acquiring them any time soon. Bearing in mind that the school year has started less than a week before, I shudder to think how long the Question list might actually get. Darn Potter! Why couldn't you have stayed the same as in your younger years?

I get up and make my way from desk to desk, inspecting the work of my charges. Some attempts are decent but none of them are anywhere near the mastery standards. With one exception.

Even before approaching the 'Gryffindor' territory' I am sure Potter's potion will be the best of the class and its quality will come close to my standards. I am not disappointed.

While Granger glances up at me and waits for my approval or disapproval (I give no reaction of course.), Potter doesn't interrupt her own work. I would assume she hasn't noticed me but the suddenly very stiff posture and less fluid movements give her away.

I don't comment but study her creation. There are only five steps in the brewing process left and her potion is the pale green, near translucent colour. Only a shade lighter and it would be perfect. However, it could be...

"Potter, the colour is all wrong and the consistency..." I snap and pause for a moment while boring a hole into the side of her head. "It is supposed to be thicker than syrup and does it look like the shade of light grass green to you, Potter?"

I watch for her reaction, for the re-appearance of the fire in her but there is nothing apart from a quiet, polite: "No, sir."

I step to the side so that I am standing in front of her desk in order to watch her face. I see her brows furrow in thought. After a few seconds, during which she doesn't cease to slowly stir the poison, she grabs with her free left hand for some more Armadillo bile and dried, crushed Flobberworm eggs. She adds a drop of the bile and sprinkles a pinch of the eggs over her cauldron. When the stirring process is finished, the potion has the required colour and consistency.

Of course, as a Potions Master this result isn't such a surprise for me but the skill she shows would have left me gawking unbecomingly, were I not such a collected man in control of my emotions. Still, for the moment I am rather glad she pretends to ignore me (she hasn't relaxed her posture since I invaded her space) as it gives me the opportunity to collect myself and to ponder on her skill level. There are only two logical options – either she spent the summer studying potions 24 / 7 or she has hidden her real potential throughout her attendance at Hogwarts.

On my mental list of questions concerning one Alessandra Potter, I add a dozen of questioning marks at the end of the question concerning her improved potions skills and underline it with red. As it is my field of expertise, I feel rather strongly about this issue.

However, I mustn't let myself get distracted. I had a plan when preparing this lesson, after all.

"Luck, Potter? Really?" I sneered in a voice I am aware causes some of the weaker first years to pee in their pants. "Well, I shouldn't be surprised. You are a Potter after all," I drawled on and still there was reaction from anyone but her. They had the attention of the whole class. Putting Potter down a peg or two was after all a very amusing pastime for his Slytherins as well as some of the Ravenclaws.

"The idiot of your father had also had to rely solely on his luck. With his brains... I mean the lack of them..." I trail of but the girl continues adding the next ingredient into her cauldron. I sense the furious glare from the know-it-all which reminds me of the saying 'If looks could kill...' Well, I would certainly have been several (hundred) times dead. Besides that I can distinguish the amusement of my snakes but it is mixed with a slight confusion.

This reassures me that I am not getting daft with suspicion of Potter's behaviour.

"Potter, look at me when I am speaking with you!" I snap angrily.

She adds the last frog eye to her cauldron, lowers the flame while I am waiting impatiently.

When she finally raises her head, her gaze is steady and it gives nothing away. There is no anger about the insults about her family and her father. But more importantly, there is no fire making her emerald green eyes even more extraordinary.

However while she matches my stare dead on, I understand what she is not saying.

She knows what I am trying to do and is not buying any of it.

Potter lowers her head and refocuses on the final stages of her potion. I turn around in frustration, my cloak billowing behind me.

Obviously plan A won't work. No matter, there are always alternatives.

I glare at the watching students and bark at them to get back to work.

* * *

**AN:** Thank you for your following the story, marking it your favourite and especially for reviewing.

**To cara-tanaka:** In what way interesting? In a good or in a bad way?


	4. Chapter 4

**4. Chapter – Potions**

„_Trust dies but mistrust blossoms.__"__  
__(__Sophocles__)_

This summer I made the decision to stop pretending I was just a mediocre witch.

To be honest it wasn't an entirely voluntary decision rather a matter of great necessity. I have always liked reading and learning new things and even the Dursley's couldn't beat my enthusiasm out of me. Though, they forced me to consciously fail at my assignments at school. Obviously, I couldn't have been seen as superior to Dudley in anything.

Now that my mind, body and soul straggle with coming to terms with what happened to me, I just had to find SOMETHING to keep my mind off of... _it._

The teachers are delighted with my work, Ron sulks and Hermione has a hard time accepting my improvement. She has always enjoyed being the cleverest of us all. And she is intelligent. Everyone with a brain the size of a pea can see that, however, for my tastes she relies too much on the knowledge found in books and on the word of authorities.

Don't get me wrong, I love my friends but even I can admit not to trust either of them entirely.

How can I? Ron gets always jealous over some silly little thing and Hermione's answer to all kinds of questions is a certain book or Dumbledore. Besides, do they even know me? There is such a large part of my life they have never been a part of. A part I have never told them about. And I probably never shall.

* * *

From the moment I stepped into the wizarding world I have always been scrutinised and so the stares aren't anything new to me. However, Snape has never paid me so much attention before. He is very subtle about it but I can still feel his eyes on me during the mealtimes I wage a war with my stomach to accept at least a few bites.

Rationally, I know I must eat more for I have already lost too much weight and it has only been a few short weeks. Considering I have never been more than thin, the situation isn't entirely good. But forcing myself to swallow food that tastes like ashes to me, is a torture. When I actually manage to consume something, I have a nightmare or a flashback and it all comes hurtling out again.

Why do I even care? I wonder.

But back to Snape. I have no idea what his problem is and as long as he lets me be, I won't let it bother me.

* * *

During our Friday's potions class I lose myself in the brewing process. I confess to like the manual labour. Despite it being my chore at my relatives, I rather enjoyed cooking and potions making is somewhat similar.

When Snape approaches Hermione's and mine working table to inspect our work, I come immediately to the here and now.

Snape is standing over three feet away from me but he is still too close. The feeling of being oppressed is only increased by his strong presence. I do my best keeping my focus on my potion and endure his usual snarky comments. In comparison to the many other times he has insulted me or my father, I don't feel anything.

I don't feel the need to protect the honour of my fa... of James because I am no more the little girl who idealised her parents and couldn't hear anything besmirching their good name. Not after seeing Snape's memory during one of those disastrous Occlumency lessons. Not after reading between the lines when Remus and especially Sirius told me animatedly about their era as the greatest pranksters of Hogwarts. Personally I thought Sirius as well as my... as James two bullies and Remus with Peter two spineless cowards.

If I were on friendlier terms with Snape, I might have openly agreed with him. As it is, I just let him know that his attempts at making me angry wouldn't work. Not this time. Not anymore.

I assume he will leave it be, however I am proven wrong. As he dismisses the class at the end of today's lesson, he orders me to stay behind. I know I have no choice but to obey and so I slowly clean up my work space and put my books and quills in my book bag while my classmates hurry to get away from the dungeons to get some early lunch before the afternoon classes start.

When the last person leaves, Snape closes and wards the door. This makes me even more apprehensive than I already was but I force myself to calm down.

I have no idea what he wants but I am sure it is not his intention to physically harm me. Therefore, I focus on breathing in and out and wait for him to bring up whatever he wants from me.

After about five minutes of just leaning against his desk and studying me, my patience is rewarded.

"Miss Potter, how are you feeling?" He asks me in his smooth voice and I cannot detect any hint of disdain in his voice. It sure isn't what I expected him to say and in my surprise I raise my head and watch his blank face and expressionless eyes.

A year ago I would have feared being legilimised by him but after several month of hard work, I managed to erect shields around my mind and I was pretty certain he wouldn't be able to break them without a lot of effort on his part.

I am not sure whether his question is genuine or not and I am just baffled by him even asking after my well-being. However I can't read his face or his relaxed posture. He really is the perfect spy and it is no wonder he has survived this long. I might still not be sure about his true allegiances (if he even is true to one side) but in contrast to June, I don't care which side he might lean more to.

He waits patiently for my answer and I don't want to anger him by prolonged silence, so I give him my standard, polite answer: "I'm fine, sir."

"Don't lie to me, Miss Potter! Or do you think me blind or stupid?"

I shook my head in response. I don't want to fight. I do have neither the strength nor the will to argue with him.

He comes sweeping at me and I flinch when he takes hold of my chin. Immediately, he lowers his hand from my face and takes a step back.

I don't want to look him in the eyes and see the disgust or disdain directed at me. I am a coward, I know but I am also very much aware of the fact that it wouldn't take long to turn the shattered pieces of me into dust and nothingness. I am literally hanging on by a thread.

"You are anything but fine," Snape growls and brings me to the present. "You are paler than death. You look like you haven't slept in months. You are thinner than a corpse and it is like the fire in you has gone out."

There is something strange with Snape's voice but I can't figure it out. He sounds angry. Maybe a little frustrated. I know I am missing something, however I am so tired and at the same time so tense, I can't be bothered by it.

"What happened during the summer?" I have never heard the Potions Master use such a soft voice before. But I cannot trust him. Why does he suddenly appear as if he cared? I know he has saved my life several times over but he has always done so grudgingly but not once in the six years had he shown a sign that he cared what happened to me. In fact, he rather gave the impression of enjoying me being in pain.

I don't want to argue and I have no energy to raise my voice let alone shout or scream. However as he has never lied to me, I shall be honest with him.

I gaze into his dark eyes and say: "Why do you suddenly care? You have never before? Why start now? Why should I trust you?"

The look on his face is answer enough for me. He doesn't have an answer to those questions or he isn't willing to divulge the information to little ol' me.

There is silence for the next few minutes.

"Madam Pomfrey should have a look at you," he states and this makes me more scared than anything. I am certain everything would show up on her examination and then they would know.

They can't. I couldn't live with myself if they found out. How could I ever look anybody in the eyes? How could anyone want to be near me or look at me if...

I shudder at the mere thought of it.

NO!

They can never know!

I feel panic overwhelm me and in desperation I latch onto the heavy robes of my potions professor and I beg him not to make me.

"Please don't make me! I am alright. I can scrub the classroom and all the cauldron for the rest of the year, just please don't make me see her..." I ramble on, not aware of what I am actually saying or that I have managed to shock Snape into speechlessness.

I only snatch from it when I feel thin muscular arms close around me drawing me into hard chest. At once, I fall silent, flinch violently and then stiffen so that I could pass for a statue.

Snape doesn't move either. He doesn't remove his arms encircling me. He doesn't press me closer to him. His arms are loose enough so that I could get away easily.

My breathing is uneven and I am fighting the flashbacks trying to force me into their thrall.

I don't want to! Please, don't make me! I scream inside my head.

I feel my control slipping but then there is that smooth silky voice reaching my ears through the haze in my mind, bringing me back to Earth.

"...you are safe. I promise. There is nobody here to hurt you. Don't worry about Madam Pomfrey. You don't need to see her if you don't want to. Shh..

Now breathe. In... and out. In... Out..."

After several minutes I cease to take in gulps of air and my raging heartbeat starts to slow down. To calm myself further I focuse on analysing the scent I take in with every breath. It iss musky, with hints of coffee, smoke and sandalwood.

For some unexplainable reason the scent, the voice and the warmth radiating from the hard chess feel comforting to me and I start to unfreeze from my stiff position.

* * *

I don't know how long we stand there, in the middle of the classroom. It can be only minutes but also hours. I don't know. For I register only this incredible feeling of comfort, of safety. I don't remember ever feeling like this. It's like I am in a cocoon where nobody can reach me. Can hurt me.

It's a heady feeling.

In the end, my mind catches up with me and then the realisation, just in whose embrace I find myself, hits me like a bludgeon.

Snape obviously senses my growing discomfort for he takes hold of my upper arm and leads me to the nearest chair.

A second later a steaming mug full of hot chocolate is pressed into my small, pale hands and I am ordered to drink. I look into the brown liquid and raise the mug up to my lips to take a careful sip.

The Potions Master takes a seat opposite me with his own cup of strong coffee so that the work desk is between us. I am grateful for this small reprieve. I need distance from him because I am confused.

I berate myself for losing control so easily but there are more pressing matters and so I push any self-criticism concerning the lack of control over my emotions to the back of my mind. I need to make head and foot of this situation so where do I begin?

Facts:

There is mutual dislike between Snape and me.

Snape acts suspiciously today – as if he were concerned for me.

I lose it. (no denying there)

Snape helps me calm down. (all right – makes me)

I feel safe in his embrace.

Hm. Makes no sense at all. How did he manage to calm me down? Why didn't I react as violently to his touch as I usually do? Why did I feel comforted and safe in his presence? And how was I able to relax (if only slightly) in such close proximity to him when I am normally so tense around him?

Can I trust him?

I don't know.

Can I trust the way he made me feel?

...

When I take the last sip of the chocolate, I decide to forget about the whole encounter. I don't trust him and I don't understand why I felt comforted by his presence. He is no friend of mine or even someone else close to me. He is one of my least favourite professors at Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake.

Apart from that, right now I am not ready to give my trust to anybody in any way. I may never be...

Putting the empty mug on the desk, I push my new experience into the back of my mind and fidget nervously with the hem of my long sleeves. I am embarrassed about my behaviour earlier and want to apologise to the man for causing him nothing but troubles. Frustratingly, I don't know what to say.

He has already finished his coffee and I sense his eyes on me. I ready myself for the scolding which is coming for my outrageous conduct but he surprises me once more. For when he speaks, he doesn't sound angry and he doesn't say anything concerning my nauseating behaviour.

"So, no madam Pomfrey?" His voice is neutral as he says it. Hesitantly, I shake my head. Where is the spiteful Snape who is always angry at me gone? He confuses me.

"When was the last time you had a whole night's sleep?" He asks still with his bland voice.

Where is he going with this?

I start to shrug because I don't know the answer to either of those questions but I catch myself in time. It wouldn't do to infuriate him with impoliteness and if he is – at least partially – the Severus Snape I know then I am well on my way to making him more than just a little mad at me. Therefore, I force myself to speak up.

"I don't know, sir," I say and for some unexplainable reason I add: "The Dreamless Sleeping potion doesn't help."

He nods his head in understanding but there isn't any other visible reaction to my answer.

"Why don't you eat?" He asks and once more he doesn't say 'Miss Potter' or 'Potter' as he is known to do. I am not sure but he seems to make an effort to keep our little chat as neutral as possible. Or he might just want to cajole me into answering. Whatever the reason, I cooperate. For the moment.

"I can't," I gasp out because only the thought of food makes the bile in my throat rise up. I forcibly swallow and put my feet on the chair so that my legs form an additional shield between my Potions Master and me.

"You will kill yourself." It is not a question but a statement and I know it to be true.

Yes, I will. My inner voice adds a little sarcastically: 'so what?' I can't help but agree. I don't want to die. Not necessarily. But I find myself wondering whether dying wouldn't be easier. I don't want to fight for every breath I take and if I have to die, as the damn Prophecy states, then I would prefer leaving this world on my own terms.

I tell Snape something similar with my head bowed. I don't want to see his expression as I imagine it must be. Sneer on face. Angry look. Maybe he is smug because he has always known I am too weak. Well, guess what, I really am.

There is a long silence. It's not comfortable at all and I wish he would just dismiss me.

In the end he says that he will brew a Nutrient potion for me and orders me to take a vial before each meal.

"And Miss Potter, I will know if you don't take the potion," are his final words before he allows me to leave and I know he will.

I am not sure what happened between us or why he was so... well nice to me today compared to our previous encounters. I really don't know but what I am sure about is that I don't trust him.

I don't want to trust him.


	5. Chapter 5

**5. Chapter – Confused **

„_I have to trust what I do and then do it."  
(Ednita Nazario)_

Later that night, while preparing the promised Nutrient potion, I am pondering on the little encounter with Potter. After hours of thought, I still haven't understood what exactly happened in my classroom. What is more, despite the talk with the girl, I feel I am no closer to figuring out what is wrong with her than I was this morning. Nevertheless, there are some more clues for me to go on now.

For one, my assumptions about her reaction to physical contact have been confirmed. She doesn't like to be touched at all. Her leaning into my chest, when I tried to calm her down, is therefore even more mystifying. I would have expected of her to bolt from an embrace. Especially mine, considering I am her most hated professor.

In addition, the fact she doesn't want to see Pomfrey proves she is hiding something. However, for the life of me I can't think of anything which could make the Golden Girl panic to the point of throwing herself at me and begging me. Me, the dungeon git extraordinaire.

Her strange behaviour aside, why in Merlin's balls did I act so uncharacteristically _nice_? Why didn't I push Potter from my person with disgust on my face? Why did I, who prides himself to be somewhat intelligent, controlled and cool-hearted, instead of forcing her away put my arms around her too thin a form and offered what little comfort I could?

I admit to enjoy the _process_ of ruffling the feathers of my students. However, I have always found the display of emotion in an uncontrolled way nauseating. Seeing the snivelling imbeciles that roam this castle never fails to make me gag. Keeping this in mind, I should have found Potter having no control whatsoever revolting. I could excuse my immediate reaction with the shock I was experiencing as people usually don't tend to throw themselves at me. On the other hand, ten minutes should have been enough for me to regain my composure, so I ask myself where was the disgust, the loathing I normally feel when confronted by such nauseating behaviour, particularly coming from Potter?

Neither of those feelings made an appearance until the damn girl left my classroom. Instead, I was worried. Worried because despite our arguments over the years, despite the insults I showered her with every chance I got, she has never reacted the way she did today. The girl who pleaded with me this afternoon isn't the arrogant, headstrong and proud Potter I know.

I wonder who the real Alessandra Potter is. Is she the girl I assumed her to be or is she the one I met today? If the latter is true then I ask whether there is a being who actually knows the person behind the Girl-Who-Lived-facade.

* * *

During weekends, I usually attend only dinners in order to have more peace from the hormonal simpletons occupying the castle and to have more time for my potions. This year I deviate from my routine. There is no question whose fault it is that I am forced to spend more time than necessary in the presence of my dear colleagues and the other inhabitants of Hogwarts.

When the situation concerning Potter is cleared, I _will _make her pay for every second I suffer. I have a very good memory and I believe I have proved many times over that I am capable of holding grudges for a long time.

But I digress. I eat every meal in the Great Hall so that I can verify the wretched girl actually took her potion. Though I am notified the moment she breaks the seal on the vials I put the Nutrient potion in, it is necessary to make sure the potion actually finds its way into her stomach. I abhor waste of time as well as resources.

The confirmation is easy as my special Nutrient potion serves as a substitute for food but it also increases appetite. As Potter swallows few more bites than the days before, I am reasonably happy she follows my orders. It is not much and not enough for a teenage girl by any stretch of imagination but it definitely is an improvement.

* * *

The first setback is on Monday morning. The morning starts as usual. I wake up early, prepare the antidotes for today's lessons, slash some more red ink over the cretins' homework and exactly at 7:11 I don my cloak and walk swiftly to the Great Hall in time for breakfast. This early in the morning there is only a small number of students and professors, so that I can enjoy my first cup of coffee in blissful silence.

By half past seven the Hall is filled by majority of the dunderheads. Some energetic ones are discussing loudly this or that while stuffing their oral cavities with food. Others are trying to hold their heads upright and eyes open so as not to fall asleep again. The Ravenclaws and Granger have their heads buried in books and Potter stares absentmindedly into her porridge, clothing her eyes every time she puts a nearly empty spoon into her mouth. My snakes, I am proud to say, conduct themselves with a little more decorum than the rest of their schoolmates. But it is clearly no wonder as their upbringing wouldn't allow for any less dignity in public.

When the owls arrive with post, I am already finished eating and only sip at my third cup of coffee while watching for misbehaviour and listening to the conversations going around me.

From the corner of my eyes, I see a barn owl aiming for Potter. She looks slightly startled when the owl lands in front of her and it takes a second or two for her to let go of her spoon and to reach for the letter bound to the owl's leg though there is something strangely mechanic about her movements.

The girl doesn't get letters often and I have never seen this owl around, however Potter obviously knows the owl as she strokes its feathers gently and offers it a piece of bacon. This is only confirmed when the know-it-all emerges from behind her tome, looks at the owl then at Potter and asks something. Potter nods and then the Weasley boy must try to say something because a moment later he is whacked on the head by Granger.

You might wonder how I know what the infamous Trio is doing even when two thirds are sitting with their backs facing me. Well, I have watched them for six years now and so I can assume with a high certainty what their actions and reactions might be before they happen. Clearly this appears not to be true for the leader of the Golden Trio anymore but I sincerely hope the change – whatever it might be – hasn't affected all of them because then I would be at a loss as how to protect the three morons and, most importantly, how to continue taking their egos down a peg or two.

Back to the drama at the Gryffindor table, after a moment of coughing and spluttering, the Weasley boy looks at Potter and says something. The girl gives a minute shrug in return and opens the delivered letter. As she silently reads through it, I watch her pale with every word she reads so that when she reaches the end of the note, she is positively green.

She stumbles to her feet and with the letter crushed in her right hand and her left one in front of her mouth the Girl-Who-Lives-To-Frustrate-Me hastens out of the Great Hall while her sidekicks call after her. This only draws the attention of the other students and the sick looking girl leaves the room with over three hundred people following her every step.

I have to stop myself from getting up and leaving after her because I can't afford losing my cover. After all it is not only my whim to act the heartless dungeon monster. Showing support to Potter would be like bouncing up and down in front of the Dark Lord and shouting: "I am a traitor!" Well, you get my point. Apart from that, what would I even do if I were to follow her to the nearest bathroom? Hold her messy hair away from the contents of her stomach?

And why in all hells am I even thinking about it? I stop this train of thought and redirect my mind to more important matters.

I wonder who the letter is from. Weasley and Granger are evidently aware of its originator and according to their lack of wariness when the owl arrived I will have to assume that the owner of said owl isn't someone overly dangerous to the remaining Potter as they would have surely made more of a fuss about the girl opening the letter.

This doesn't help me much. However, I get a glance of their expressions as they turn to call after their retreating friend and it seems I am not the only one bewildered by what made the Chosen One ill. Curious. It appears that the Golden Girl is keeping secrets from the rest of the Trio.

This is most unsettling as this leaves even less to go on than I had before. The three have been through thick and thin together throughout the years as Minerva reminds me every time she talks about her lions. Lemon Drop, on the other hand, insists there aren't secrets between the three 'model students'.

At this thought I focus my attention at the old coot and I am not surprised to see a thoughtful expression on his face as he watches the door through which his favourite student just left.

_Is your perfect weapon acting out of order? Is she slipping through you wrinkled fingers?_ I imagine myself asking the codger.

I would laugh at his misfortune if the situation wasn't so serious. But I can't because this only further proves that whatever is going on with Potter really isn't something to ignore.

* * *

In the sixth year afternoon potion class I watch my students closely. Especially the Gryffindors. Potter doesn't greet me nor acknowledge my presence when she enters the lab and afterwards, she focuses solely on her cauldron and ignores the inquiring looks the know-it-all shoots her every now and then. In short she acts as she did in my Friday class.

Malfoy still has this strange gleam in his gray eyes, making me reinforce my intent to keep a closer eye on him. Without a doubt, he is up to no good. Even more so than usual and this time I get a really bad feeling about his plans.

During the whole lesson, I remain sitting behind my desk, observing my students while pondering on possible action concerning Potter. If she hasn't confided in her closest companions then I have less than zero chance at finding out her problem. I can confidently say she won't tell me about what is bothering her willingly and she has already demonstrated her ability to withstand stressful situations without giving anything, she doesn't want others to know, away. I curse her Occlumency skills as they are a real disadvantage in this case. For me that is.

In the end I decide to remain silent and not to approach her for the time being. I will only confront her if she breaks any roles or stops taking the Nutrient potion. Otherwise I shall remain in the background, watching for more clues.

* * *

**AN:** Dear readers, thank you for following and reviewing.

I have some questions for you and I would really appreciate it if you could find the minute to give me some feedback on them.

Do you like the story so far?

Do you enjoy the writing style or is it sometimes confusing?

Would you like longer chapters though longer time between uploading the chapters?


	6. Chapter 6

**6. Chapter – Apprehensive **

„_Ideas are only lethal if you suppress and don't discuss them. Ignorance is not bliss, it's stupid. Banning books shows you don't trust your kids to think and you don't trust yourself to be able to talk to them."  
(Anna Quindlen) _

Over the next several weeks, I refrain from doing anything proactive towards Potter and only watch for anything else out of order in her life that I can see. Obviously, there are many things I may never find out. For example, the way she behaves with her friends when there is only the three of them, or what she does while in her common room, while with the strange Ravenclaw or alone.

However, I am not a spy for nothing. I am usually very good at reading people and figuring out their true nature despite only interacting or watching them while they are in the public's eye.

Potter's behaviour doesn't change much from the way she acted during her first week. That is, until Halloween. She stays mostly silent and the interaction with her schoolmates is curbed down to a bare minimum from what I can tell. She continues on her way to becoming one of the best students in her year in the majority of her subjects. Even I have to get used to her, admittedly, excellent performance during her potions lessons.

From an average student she improved to be the best potions student I have had in years. Grudgingly, I am proud of her. If she were one of my snakes I could praise her but due to the political climate as well as our past dealings with each other I can't even honestly tell her, her work is better than adequate. Although, I suspect she already knows this.

During the weekly teacher's meetings it is now "Potter did this and that..." – "No wait, in my lesson she did this..." As I observe their mindless arguments, I feel nauseous. Aren't the teachers at Hogwarts supposed to care for their charges? Aren't they supposed to not only take care of the academic progress of the little urchins but their psychological well-being too?

The worst and most worrying part is seeing the anxious face of the old codger as he listens to his staff's scholastic squabbles about in whose subject the wonderful Chosen One excels the most. I am confident he isn't concerned about the obvious signs of her mental distress. Rather he hasn't anticipated her intellectual improvement and this in itself isn't welcomed by the 'Light Lord'.

Why the supposed Saviour of the 'Light' isn't supposed to be knowledgeable and skilled at magic is a real mystery to me. If Lemon Drop's proclamations were to be trusted, then you would expect him to be ecstatic about her sudden maturity concerning her education. This new discovery, however, only confirms my suspicions about the not so unscrupulous 'Light' and its un-fallible leader.

You might wonder how come I am so certain about the headmaster's true worries. Well, as a spy, it is my job to watch and observe. During my Potter-project, as I call my current undertaking, I haven't forgotten about one of my main duties, that is, finding information on Dumbles for the Dark Side. And so while one of my eyes might be directed at the Girl-Who-Lives-To-Make-Give-Me-Prematurely-Gray -Hair, the other one stays directed at the ancient coot. It is a miracle I am not yet blind what with the bright multi-coloured robes of Dumbledore and the Potter's dark nest of hair.

I digress. Since the beginning of this school-term the pretentious grandfather watches the Golden Girl thoughtfully. This however changes during one morning in the beginning of October. The girl once again receives post from the nondescript barn owl as she does at least once a week. This morning is one of those mornings she turns green and rushes to the closes bathroom but more about the mysterious letters later.

So this fine, cloudy morning while the Chosen One opens her letter and fights for the meagre contents of her stomach not to reacquaint themselves with the plate, Lemon Drop's nearly unnoticeable frown vanishes from his face and is replaced by a smile accompanied by the infernal twinkle in his baby blue eyes.

While I once would have ignored these obvious signs of one of his in-genius plans to further carve his pawn, I get a very bad feeling from whatever he just came up with. Considering everything I have witnessed since the beginning of this term, I choose to heed my instincts because I am the first to know how dangerous it is to play with fire. Potter is very close to snapping and the headmaster might just destroy with this newest idea of his.

Well, wouldn't it be fun to watch the 'Great' Dumbledore cause his strongest weapon's demise? Unfortunately, I have given an oath to her mother to give my life for her if necessary, so I can't lean back and enjoy the show. What a pity.

Therefore, I forsake few more hours of experimenting for my Potter-project. I must bide my time well if I want to help instead of causing even more damage and by this point the latter would be much easier than the former.

But now back to my observation about Potter. As I have already mentioned, the illusive barn owl continues to deliver a letter once or twice a week. Beside the Trio and Dumbles nobody seems to recognise the bird. Then again nobody seems to be watching Potter as intensely as I do. Not even the Malfoy' spawn spends so much time observing the Golden Girl.

When the owl comes, the wretched girl never fails to stiffen. She keeps her expression neutral while reading the letters, however, the loss of colour of her face belies the stress the missives are causing her. Sometimes there is even a repeat from the first time the barn owl brought post to her and she swiftly heads out.

By middle October only the Lovegood girl watches her leave the Great Hall while the Granger girl and Weasley boy barely glance at her back and then return to their previous activities. The rest of Hogwart's population doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

This is one more puzzle giving me headache. No, not the fickle support of the mass but the swiftly deteriorating friendship between the loyal Gryffindors. How come the know-it-all and the redheaded simpleton don't shadow Potter anymore? Why aren't they (more) concerned about their friend's welfare?

In the beginning of the school year I notice them question Potter and attempting to bring her out of whatever hole she had fallen in. Soon however I come upon the two alone or in the company of other housemates with the Saviour clearly missing. The girl in question is more often than not to be found in the library either alone or with the Ravenclaw sixth-year joining her table. From what I can tell, they don't exchange many words but neither of them seems to mind the silence or the company.

* * *

The Lovegood girl is one of the strangest persons I have come across. From what she wears to what she says. I often wondered how she got sorted into the house of the bookworms but I ceased to try to understand her as the attempts would be futile. Now, however, I might not have a chance but to approach her if I want to make some progress in my Potter-project. As she is the person spending the most amount of time with the miserable girl, she might tell me what is bothering her associate or give me some clue in the very least.

Still my pride and apprehension about asking her the pertinent questions keep me from actually approaching her until the second week of October.

After one of the joined Hufflepuff Ravenclaw potions classes I order Lovegood to stay behind. Without comment she cleans her work space and then directs her large blue-grey eyes at me. I am just glad she doesn't wear her extravagant spectacles on as her gaze, following my every move, is unnerving as it is.

I close the door behind the last of her classmates and put up some basic privacy wards.

"Miss Lovegood, you are a friend of Potter's," I say when I turn back towards her. By the slight upturn of her lips I can tell something about the statement makes her happy. Nevertheless, even after several minutes she doesn't speak, only continues to look me into the eyes steadily as if prodding me to go on.

"Can you tell me what is wrong with Miss Potter?" I give in, trying desperately to not let my impatience or anger show. Suddenly, I doubt asking the Ravenclaw student was such a good idea as it doesn't look I would get an answer in this lifetime.

I am just about to dismiss the girl when she finally opens her mouth to respond. "The nargles tell me that soon you may know but not unless you are very patient," she says in her usual dreamy voice. Then the haze in her eyes clears for a moment and she pins me with this even more unnerving stare than the one before.

"Do not hurt her."

I stand dumbfounded in the middle of my classroom long after she left for her next class. I am not exactly sure what happened and her cryptic reply, as well as warning, doesn't help to clear my mind or reassure me much.

* * *

**AN:** Rather a short chapter but a necessary one. Next a little from Alessa's point of view and soon you might find out whose owl keeps bringing post to the GWL.

Once again thank you for your reviews.

**To Nahavia:** I am glad to hear you started reading the story despite your scepticism. And you are right. It is not my intention to make the readers pity Alessandra. Even though it is somewhat telling about the direction of this story, I will say this: I don't want to focus on the act of rape but rather on the aftermath – the process of coming to terms with the assault/s and most importantly the matter of trust.

Hopefully, you will enjoy reading the rest of the story.


	7. Chapter 7

**7. Chapter – Chasm **

„_When you're surrounded by all these people, it can be even lonelier than when you're by yourself. You can be in a huge crowd, but if you don't feel like you can trust anybody or talk to anybody, you feel like you're really alone.__"__  
__(__Fiona Apple__)_

It is strange. Hogwarts has always been a home to me and, don't get me wrong, it still is. However, this year, like everything else, the life at the castle has changed for me. Despite the danger in the form of possessed or impersonated professors, deadly beasts and ministry influence, Hogwarts has always felt safe to me. Maybe because of the magic saturated air or the magical defences left by the four founders and the past headmasters.

Or maybe because of the friends I have found behind the walls of the majestic building. Although Hermione, Ron and I often argued between ourselves, we have stuck together when the whole school ostracised me due to their suspicions of me being barmy or evil anyway. Until now.

Hogwarts still feels like one of the safest places to me but as the weeks go by I can't fail to notice the absence of my once close friends.

This summer changed me. I dare say I have fully taken of the glasses blinding my judgment. My glasses have always been less tinted than those of the other children but now, looking back, I see that even after growing up with my relatives and the run-ins with Tom Riddle I had some naiveté left which, considering everything is a true miracle.

Over the holidays I had little contact with my best friends despite the fact I spend the whole August at Nr. 12 Grimmauld Place. On my very last day at the Dursley's I received their birthday presents and then in the very end of August Pig brought me a short note from both Ron and Hermione informing me that we probably won't see each other until we arrive at school as they have their Head Girl and Prefect duties, respectively. I didn't deem this message worth an answer and spend the train ride with Neville and Luna in comfortable silence after our greetings and "How was your summer"'s.

I met the rest of the Trio when they came to announce our soon arrival at the Hogsmeade station. When they recognised me I could see the slight shock in their faces and I could already tell I was in for an interrogation.

After the welcoming feast they were both tired and apart from the general questions of "How are you?", "How was your summer?" and "How was it at headquarters'? You must have seen and learned so much..." I didn't have to answer anything else as they both retired to their dorm early.

The first week we spent mostly together, although I noticed the growing resentment and curiosity on Hermione's part and Ron's sulkiness was after two days apparent to anyone watching.

I was aware they wondered what happened to me, what changed me. Why was I suddenly so studious and less laid-back?

They joined me in the library but they kept watching me the whole time and asking about what was wrong with me at irregular intervals. It was quite disturbing and I had to hold myself back as not to laugh in their faces. What gives them the right to question me when they have forgotten all about my existence during the summer?

* * *

On the first Monday after the beginning of the school term, Spoiler brings me a letter and, even though _he_ asks only after my well-being and the first week of school, I get sick and have to seek out the closest lavatory.

When I join my classmates in front of the charms classroom several minutes later, Hermione is the first to speak.

"Are you alright? Shouldn't you go to Madam Pomfrey?"

Before I manage to formulate a response, Ron asks: "Well, what was in the letter? What did he want?"

At the same moment professor Flitwick opens the door and I am saved from answering. Because I see the worried look on Hermione's face and because I wish to avoid her nagging I whisper: "Something didn't agree with my stomach but I am perfectly fine now."

She doesn't believe me entirely. However she can't do anything about it without causing a scene. In addition, the lesson has already started and she wouldn't voluntarily miss it. I breathe a sigh of relief and focus my attention on today's lecture about warding.

Throughout the day I witness my two friends whispering to each other which wouldn't normally worry me all that much butI know what this is about. It is time for the Spanish Inquisition.

After dinner I start to make my way towards the library but Ron and Hermione steer me into an unused classroom on the fourth floor. When we enter the dusty room Hermione waves her wand and mutters a few housecleaning charms I have often seen Mrs Weasley use. Then she wards the room to secure our privacy.

I make myself comfortable on one of the desks, waiting for the questioning to begin. No, I don't look forward to it but I seem to know my friends better than they know me and therefore I am aware of the inevitability of the coming confrontation. But I also know that they cannot truly hurt me. I am already a fallen soldier and there isn't much they could come up with to shatter the remaining pieces of me.

Yes, it would be easy to destroy me now and I myself am doing a really good job. But my friends aren't aware of the best points to press to make me break. As I have said, I have changed and I won't conform to the picture of the brave, open and slightly naive Girl-Who-Lived anymore. And though I might still be starved for human contact and affection, I am now much too disillusioned to accept any without a question.

"So, Andy, why don't you tell us what is going on?" Hermione asks and Ron nods expectantly while I think: _And so it starts..._

I shrug. "I am fine."

"Don't be stupid," Hermione says. "Obviously you are not fine. You have lost quite a lot of weight. You are quiet and don't play chess or Exploding Snap with the others anymore and I know you have trouble sleeping!"

It is as if I could watch the chasm between us physically expand with each question and accusation thrown at me.

Why should I answer them? Why should I need to justify myself in front of my friends?

There is a slight chance I am wrong but considering their behaviour during the past months I am convinced to be right. I don't believe they would question me if I came as thin as I am and continued to goof around with Ron and leave the homework until the last possible moment. However this is not so. Ron sulks because I don't spend so much time with him laughing at lame jokes and Hermione can't get over the fact I am better in some of our classes than her. She is supposed to be the most intelligent of us, is she not?

I keep my opinion and sarcasm to myself and wait for them to realise that they won't get any answers from me and that I won't come crawling back to them to be once again the gullible 'Golden Girl'.

And so, slowly the 'Golden Trio' falls apart. We still sit together at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall but as the days go by we speak less and less and Hermione's presence at my table in the library is replaced by that of Luna Lovegood. To be honest, I prefer the company of the latter for with Luna there is no nagging and forcing me to be someone I am not.

* * *

My summer haunts me in my dreams and sometimes I don't only wake up covered in sweat but also bowed over a toilet. I really wish I was still having nightmares about Cedric's death and the fight in the Department of Mysteries because even those memories are better than those of _him_. I would even accept the visions I used to have back in my fifth year if I only could forget about the reason why I can't stand to be touched.

When the nights are particularly bed, Luna gives me a look of understanding and stays close to me. I really appreciate her silent support. Although many think Luna crazy, I have always suspected there was more to her than met the eye. And even though I can't explain it, I believe she knows what is going on with me. She doesn't say anything and stays with me despite me being unclean.

Once, I asked her why she keeps me company and all she said was: "You are not alone."

Alone.

What a word. I might not be alone but if it weren't for Luna I sure as hell would feel all alone in the world all the bloody time. Even with her I feel sometimes so lonely and _alone_.

They all think to know me, the Girl-Who-Lived, Ron and Hermione especially. And they all believe it is their right to know everything about me. However when it comes to it they are never really _there_ when I need them. If they were, I wouldn't consider Snape to be kind just because he showed a tiny sliver of concern.

We haven't spoken since the first potions lesson but I can always sense his eyes on me. I have always been able to distinguish his particular examination of myself and the distinct glare thrown my way. This year I don't mind him watching because something in the way he does changed. I doubt the intensity of his gaze will ever diminish however there is less spite and hate in his eyes.

The only time I hear from my potions professor, apart from the potions lessons, is when a house elf delivers the next batch of the Nutrient Potion with a note from Snape to remind me to take a vial before every meal to my dormitory.


	8. Chapter 8

**8. Chapter – Unattentive **

It is Monday and I watch again as the stupid barn owl soars towards the Gryffindor table. As always, Potter looks indifferent but her calm composure is belied by the tenseness of her too light body.

As always she treats the owl to a piece of bacon and then she relieves if of its burden. I wonder what it will be this time. Will she stay or will she rush out, pale as a ghost?

And bingo!

She nearly sprints out of the Great Hall with the letter tightly clutched in her hand. Whatever was written in the missive must be really bad because she has never been quite so quick to leave the breakfast table nor have I ever seen her countenance reach such a greyish-white colour.

Not for the first time do I think about the bloody fucker who makes her lose what little she manages to eat. But not only because of this do I wish to give him a piece of my mind, curse him seven ways to Christmas and last but not least dissect him. How dare he or she disturb the girl so much? How dare the ass push her even further into her depression?

I really want to find out who the correspondent is so that I can wring said person's neck. However, so far I haven't had much luck finding out who the owl's owner is. Lemon Drop doesn't speak to me much as I haven't been called by the Dark Lord recently and Bumbles doesn't trust me with Order' matters much. This is, in no way, a reason for me to stop spying for him and feeding him information about the Dark Side. I am a bit useful to him (or at least I pretend to be) so that he can't eradicate me at the moment.

Sarcasm aside, the headmaster wouldn't divulge any information to me even if I were to beg him on my knees and the only other people beside Potter who could tell me what I wish to find out, are Granger and the youngest Weasley. As I have no plausible reason to question them and they continue to ignore their friend, I doubt I will be able to find the truth from them. Or the part of the truth they are aware of.

The worst part is that I have no idea who this elusive person could be. When it comes to mysteries and figuring things out I always have some suspicion and clues to go on. This time it is as if I were grabbing thin air.

I know directly from the Dark Lord that, recently, there haven't been any attacks issued against the Girl-Who-Lived and no one else from the dark section would start anything without their master's approval. As a matter of fact, Voldemort appeared strangely worried and preoccupied during the summer.

And then, although I would be the first to tell you that not all light wizards are good I can't imagine anyone affecting the strong Potter to such a degree. I might be prejudiced against her but even I, after some thinking, can admit that she withstood situations many adults would have succumbed to. She has faced death and she has always come stronger out of it which means that whatever currently plagues her mind is no laughing matter.

~~~0~~~

When Potter enters my classroom later that day, she appears to be even more despondent than usual and I am pretty certain whom we have to thank for that.

She walks to her table and prepares her work space mechanically as if she were a robot. I have to hold myself back in order not to march up to her and shake some life into her. I would even prefer her being her cheeky arrogant self to this empty shell. I can't bear seeing her lifeless like this.

Suddenly I remember the words of the Lovegood oddity. Patience.

I sigh irritably and charm the instruction for today's potion on the blackboard behind me.

"What are you imbeciles waiting for?" I bark out. "You have fifty minutes to put a vial of a perfectly brewed antidote for the Choking Draught on my desk."

I watch as they all scramble to begin their work. That is all apart from Potter. She startles badly when the Granger girl nudges her towards the cabinet where I store the more volatile ingredients. She catches the cauldron she has overthrown due to being caught unaware before it hits the stone floor with a loud crash.

Nevertheless all of her classmates look up from their activities and so I am forced to acknowledge the disruption. While my Slytherins are waiting excitedly for my reaction, the other students watch the unfortunate girl with a hint of worry and pity on their eyes. They all have been at one point or other put under the microscope by me.

"Potter! 10 points from Gryffindor! And pay attention!" I shout.

"Yes sir," she whispers in a hollow tone and hurries with unsteady movements to collect the necessary ingredients.

I observe her even more intently throughout the lesson than I did before. She cuts and crushes the ingredients with practised ease but her expression, as well as the jerkiness of her movements, tell me her mind is somewhere far away. If she were one of the other dunderheads I have to teach, she surely would have caused an explosion by now.

Once again I wonder how advanced she must be if she manages to brew this particular concoction with her mind occupied with different matters. I would have expected her to fail miserably at producing the hard antidote and although the sample she hands in at the end of the lesson isn't of the quality I started to get used to since the beginning of the term, her potion is still the best brewed compared to the work of her classmates.


	9. Chapter 9

**9. Chapter – Dungeons**

„_I lost my sense of trust, honesty and compassion. I crashed down and became what I consider an emotional mess. I've never been so miserable in my whole life. I just wanted to go to bed and never get up.__"__  
__(__Shania Twain__)_

* * *

"_I'll see you on Saturday in Hogsmead."_

How could I have forgotten that this weekend is the Hogsmead weekend? _He_ has promised to see me on the rare Saturdays students are allowed to visit the local village. I must have suppressed the memory of the threat as each and every one of the others.

But what shall I do?

I can't see him. Besides I don't think I am quite up to a trip to Hogsmead. Too many crowds.

What shall I do?

* * *

In hindsight, I see that I should have expected the contents of the letter. But as they say, hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

Monday and Tuesday pass me by in a haze. I do my best to concentrate on the lessons but the fact is there are more pressing matters. Therefore I spend my free time pondering on the Hogsmead weekend and ways to avoid going there. As I am quite certain a simple "I don't want to go" won't cut it this time, it is not as easy to find a solution to my current dilemma.

Why am I so sure I will need a really good for not joining my schoolmates on the way to the village? Well, as _he_ wrote _he _will see me on Saturday, it is safe to say that he got permission from Dumbledore. Which translates to: "Andy, my girl, you better meet with _him_!"

So alternatives.

Perhaps I could fake sudden sickness. That would be a perfectly understandable reason for staying in bed that day. The only drawback is I would surely have to go see Madam Pomfrey. Not only would she figure out I am only faking (or if I were to give myself some _real_ symptoms, she would heal me in a jiffy) but more importantly the test results would show her all the other things I am hiding.

Or, maybe, if I were to land myself in detention with for example Snape or someone equally unforgiving, I would in no way be able to forgo my punishment and therefore be forced to stay in the castle.

That would be ideal, now that I think about it. Except, how do I make sure to have a detention on the exact day as well as at a reasonable hour? It wouldn't help me, after all, if my 'punishment' was scheduled in the evening when all the students have to be back at Hogwarts anyway.

If nothing had changed, I would have just blown up a potion during my next potion lesson or I could have just started a verbal fight with Snape and I would have, with absolute certainty, served a detention on the Hogsmead weekend for the utmost effect. Our resident Potions Master wouldn't have wanted me to enjoy myself now, would he? However with the current state of affairs I am not exactly sure he would assign me a detention for something silly, like mouthing off to him.

"He will help you." Someone says and I am brought to the present.

Luna and I are sitting at our usual table in the library and we both have opened books in front of us with the only difference being that while my companion studies the contents of her tome diligently, I stare into an open book about privacy wards without seeing the letters at all.

I shake myself mentally and look at the Ravenclaw girl. She doesn't raise her head from the book on some mythical creatures but I know it was her who spoke. I watch her blond curls of hair incomprehensively before my brain catches up with me. Putting my previous train of thought with her statement together, I am shocked.

Snape, the Severus Snape who up to this year wished to gut me, _will_ help _me_? Did hell freeze over while I spaced out?

"I... How can you be so sure?" I ask after several long minutes to make sure I didn't misunderstand her comment.

Luna looks up at me and answers my question with confidence: "I am." And then before she refocuses on her reading material, she says: "The pardi wouldn't have been so successful if they hadn't lowered their heads in front of the ...

Ok. So I have to take the first step.

Now how to approach our resident Potions Master and make him agreeable? Before I lose myself to the contemplation about this issue, I give Luna my honest gratitude.

* * *

That night I cannot sleep at all but I count it rather as a blessing. Although I need to keep a Pepper-up potion to stay standing on my feet, I have kept last day's meals in my stomach thanks to the absence of my nightmares.

In the privacy behind close curtains of my bed, I examine and re-examine every possibility this day could go wrong. Surprisingly, there are quite a large number of them. From me forgetting the purpose of my planned trip to the dungeons in the late afternoon to Snape having to chaperone so that he wouldn't be able to hold a detention that day anyway. The odds are I won't be even able to speak to him as he does have a job, never mind his secondary occupation and there is not much to be said about the predictability of Riddle's calling.

Nevertheless, I need to ask him. I need to at least try. I have no idea what it will cost me to persuade him to help me but short of telling me what exactly happened during the holidays, I will do practically anything.

It won't be easy to win his assistance in this as it isn't a secret that I would stoop to breaking rules in order to join my year-mates in the village back in my third year. So why the sudden change of heart? I know he will wonder and this particular question is hard to answer without giving my biggest secret yet away. Another complication is that Snape won't be satisfied with a lie and if I were so much as thinking about giving him a dishonest answer, I could already say goodbye to any hope left.

It will be hard to come to an agreement. If it weren't the only way to get what I so desperately need, I would never even think about voluntarily dealing with the potions professor.

Hopefully we will be able to compromise. Otherwise I shudder at the thought what would happen. Again.

* * *

I force myself to concentrate on the lessons. However, it is quite difficult considering I have already understood all the theories and mastered the spells required from us. McGonagall introduces us to inanimate to animate transfiguration. We are supposed to change a goblet into a reptile of our choice. To keep my mind off of other, school unrelated matters, I amuse myself by transfiguring my goblet into different kinds of snakes, changing their colour or making their patterns of their skin extra delicate.

My head of house is ecstatic when she sees my work and she gives us points for my "exceptional skills" I "must have inherited from James".

While Hermione glares at me with a look full of jealousy, Ron chooses to ignore me completely. Normally I would feel a pang of sadness at the reminder of the gap between me and my friends but today the sorrow is conspicuously absent. I doubt I have finally gotten over the loss of my first friends. Rather I have enough to worry about so that this small matter appears to be insignificant for the moment.

* * *

Direct after the last class of the day I head towards the dungeons. I would go completely crazy if I were to wait any longer before exploring the last chance at relatively peaceful Saturday.

When I reach the potions classroom I am met with a group of second year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws hurrying in the opposite direction. They look shaken and relieved at the same time and I can't fault them as I remember quite clearly leaving the domain of the dungeon bat with similar feelings.

They look at me as if I had lost my marbles when it becomes obvious I am here to see the Potions Master. I can't discredit this notion either as I have always suspected not to be quite right in the head.

It doesn't take long for the last student to exit the room. When he does I enter the lab and close the door behind me. Snape is standing with his back towards the door, spelling the blackboard clean of the instructions so he doesn't see me. This gives me the time to lock the door and put up some advanced privacy spells I found in some books in the library.

"Miss Potter," he says with a surprise in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

I lock my hands and knees in place so that I don't fidget. I am nervous quite enough and he doesn't need to know that.

"I need to talk to you," I answer, trying to sound confident and strong. Neither of which I am.

He studies me for several long minutes before motioning me to continue.

"I..." I don't know what to say, how to explain despite the long hours I spend planning what to say. In the end I decide to don't beat around the bush. "Could you, please, assign me a detention for this Saturday?"

His eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline. I know I must have shocked him. Before he can deny anything I rush to make myself clear though I can't quite manage not to sound desperate.

"I could clean the cauldrons, the lab or restore the potions cupboard. I promise I wouldn't stand in your way. I just... Please, I will do anything you ask."

I anxiously bite my lower lip but after a long, silent pause he finally says something.

"And why would you want to spend your free time in the dungeons instead of getting drunk with the other hooligans going to Hogsmead?"

"There are too many crowds and I don't like alcohol," I give him a somewhat honest answer. Well, I haven't lied. Not exactly. I might have just omitted certain facts. Hopefully he won't question me further.

He furrows his brows and looks into my eyes searchingly. I force myself not to look away and at the same time I make sure my mind shields are intact.

_Please, let it be..._

It seems like some lucky star took pity on me, for when the silence in the dungeons is finally broken, Snape says: "You will do anything?"

"Yes sir," I whisper. What have I agreed to? Suddenly, I am rather unsure whether this is a good idea but it is too late. There is no going back. Besides, a day spent in the dungeons with the Potion Master surely won't be as bad as meeting with him. Despite what Snape might dish out for me to do. Surely...

"All right then..."

When I hear those three words, it is as if a stone fell from my heart. Even though I have now the detention to worry about, I am glad. I won't meet _him_.

* * *

**AN:** Thank you very much for letting me know how you like or dislike the store as well as being patient while following it.

I wish you all the best in the new year. May all go according to your plans and wishes, and your inspiration not dry out!


	10. Chapter 10

**10. Chapter – Surprised **

„_Trust is built step by step, commitment by commitment, on every level."_

_(R. C. Solomon)_

I still don't understand why Potter would beg me to give her detention instead of preparing herself for the first outing to Hogsmead this school year, though, hopefully, I will find out today.

I can't imagine how desperate she must have been to come to me with her odd request, considering I have never given her the time of the day or any signs of being approachable at all.

She is slowly but surely becoming one of the biggest mysteries I have encountered so far.

I can live with the fact I haven't been entirely right about her and that I have failed at figuring out her personality because of my prejudice and old grudges. The problem is I am left in the dark. So how can I protect her when I don't know from what?

She has been losing weight since the beginning of the term despite my strongest Nutrient Potion. Although the rate of her weight loss isn't as high as the one during the first week, it is noticeable nonetheless – at least by those looking.

Furthermore, her depression hasn't lifted. In fact her mood has darkened even more since this Monday's morning post. On Thursday she seemed a little better, however, on Friday during her potions class, I really feared she would accidently blow up the whole lab. It wasn't a chore to find a reason to give her detention and I am not sure whether to be happy or mad about it.

There is a light knock on my office door and I bark out an order to enter without looking up from writing some well aimed comments about the dimwit's lack of intelligence on the essay I am currently grading. It is bad enough this idiot can't brew a potion above second year level. In addition the younger Creevey brother's grammar makes his essays nearly illegible.

"Good morning, sir," Potter says after closing the heavy wooden door and thus saves the Creevey idiot from having even more of my kind remarks added to his essay. I write a T with a flourish on the bottom of the paper and put my quill down before I greet Potter with a slight incline of my head. I motion her to take a seat and she does, although a little reluctantly.

We sit measuring each other, neither of us breaking the silence for a long time.

Last night, I went to sleep with a perfect plan for today's so-called detention. Now, that I see her up close, thin, tired haggard and not a little anxious, I don't think I can follow through with my decided course of action. Seeing her dull eyes, sunken cheeks and dark circles under her eyes, I can't bring myself to play the card: "You said you would do anything in order to avoid going to Hogsmead. So tell me why exactly did you wish to stay in the castle instead of enjoying yourself? What happened to you over the summer?"

She is too fragile. If I wanted to destroy her I could ask her those questions, pry into her privacy and I am certain she would be shattered beyond repair.

But I don't want to. I have always watched her from the shadow and kept my distance. She is the last remaining link to Lily but at the same time, she is also the legacy of the one who was the cause of much of the torment in my life. Looking back I can see that I was choosing to concentrate on the second part of her. It was easy to blind myself by seeing only James in her strong personality. Now, however, when her vulnerable side is bared for the world to see, I can't for the life of me summon the dislike associated with everything Potter. All I see is a young woman who has suffered too much in her short life.

Maybe it is time I took a more proactive role in protecting Lily's daughter. I will be patient. I will wait and let her come to me when she is ready. I will give her the option of unburdening herself to me.

With this decision I refocus on her fidgeting form.

"Thank you, sir," she suddenly says. I only incline my head in acknowledgment and before I can think of anything for her to do to spend the time and make myself more approachable to her she asks what she can do.

I don't answer her question right away. Instead I stand up, asking: "Would you like some hot chocolate or tea? You haven't eaten much breakfast."

She seems startled but if I weren't looking for her reaction I would have missed the tensing of her shoulders.

"May I have coffee with some milk, please?"

I nod and firecall the kitchens to place an order for two coffees and a plate of soft biscuits. As soon as I take my place behind my desk, a tablet with my order appears on the desk, courtesy of the house elves.

"Eat some biscuits, Miss Potter. They are light enough so you shouldn't have a problem with indigestion."

She blushes in embarrassment and reaches out with her shaking pale hand for one and brings it slowly to her mouth to nibble on the edges. Although I would rather she eat a full meal, I know what to except from someone who eats less than a two year old child a day. Therefore I don't comment and only adjust the temperature of the room as I haven't missed the way she curled her hand on the cup of hot coffee and brought it closer to her body.

Usually, my office is as cold as the rest of the dungeons. Dumbles and Minerva always comment on it as with magic it is rather easy to keep a comfortable temperature even in the lower parts of the castle. However, I myself don't mind the cold much. Besides it tends to keep the students on their toes and intimidate them better. I raise the temperature only in certain situations when I shed (a part of) my Evil-Dungeon-Bat-persona.

After taking a few sips of the heavenly beverage and choosing my words, I say: "Miss Potter, as you agreed to do anything if I gave you this detention, I could demand to know what happened to you over the summer and why exactly you were so desperate to stay in the castle today." As expected, she flinches violently at my words. The tension in her body is worse than ever and the fear in her eyes is nearly tangible. "However, I won't be asking you those questions." The fear in her eyes lessens a little but she still appears to be waiting for the punch line. "If you ever need to talk to someone, you can come to me. I would be willing to make an oath not to divulge anything you say to me, to make you more comfortable."

I wait for her to fully comprehend my words because I suspect I lost her somewhere in the beginning of my short speech. When the way she looks at me changes from suspicious and weary to a slightly wondering gaze, I remain silent and watch her in return even though it makes me a little uncomfortable to be studied as if I were some new species.

"You won't be asking me those questions?" She asks in such a small voice that I am certain I made the right decision in abandoning my previous plans for today.

"No, I won't. But I would like to ask you some other questions," I answer her truthfully and after a short minute of thought she says: "Alright but if it weren't possible for me to answer may I say so?"

At my nod she relaxes but her calmness is belied by the stiffness of her posture. As there is nothing for me to ease her fears at the moment, apart from showing her I am honest, I ask her one of the questions which has plagued me since her first potions lesson during this year.

"How come you haven't blown up a potion this year?"

I watch a corner of her lips twitch upwards before she runs a hand through her tangled hair and lets out a sigh. "I guess, I just decided to ignore the expectations of others." When I raise an eyebrow in question, she explains further. "I mean, before I came to Hogwarts I was really looking forward to Potions because I thought that if I achieved in something it would be this class as it is rather similar to cooking and I quite enjoy that.

But soon it became clear what the wizarding world expected of the Girl-Who-Lived and I didn't want other reasons to be singled out. Then you saw how my friends reacted at my academic improvement. Plus – forgive me – you weren't exactly encouraging to do better."

I mull her response over, wondering how she could now what cooking was like at the age of eleven unless I misjudged her even more than I assumed.

She answers my other questions about her potions skills and then we discuss the pros and cons of different cauldrons for various potions.

When I order some light lunch to be delivered to my office, Potter eats the most I have seen since the beginning of this term, I note with satisfaction. However I do not comment on it. Instead I argue the usage of nettles in a draught for alleviating the symptoms of asthma as opposed to adding graphorn to the draught.

Astonishingly, our potions discussion is very interesting even for me, a master in the Art. I haven't had such a stimulating conversation about brewing and potions for a very long time. And even thought there is much I wanted to ask Potter besides learning about her mysterious potions skills, I put my Questions' List in the back of my mind. She has finally relaxed and her eyes seem to have regained some light.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, I broach the subject of her friends. What she says doesn't surprise me. It only confirms my own observations and assumptions.

"Hermione, she always needs to know everything and she prides herself to be the most intelligent in our year" (rather in the whole school, I add in my mind) "and she can't accept me being better than her in any subject. And Ron, well, he's sulking as I haven't spend as much time slacking off with him as before."

After she says this, she searches for something in my eyes and I guess she finds what she has been looking for as she adds in a matter-of-fact voice: "Besides, they're too much under the headmaster's thumb."

I raise my eyebrows in shock at her statement and at the insinuation. It seems the Golden Girl is further away from Lemon Drop than I anticipated.

"Yes, the headmaster. He wanted me to reschedule your detention," I say, wondering whether she knows something about this. Dumbles has never interfered with detentions before and when he came to my private lab Friday evening demanding the Saviour be allowed a trip to Hogsmead, I admit it raised my suspicions about his intentions. However as I have already given my word and I didn't have a good feeling about the Light Lord's "request", I argued she deserved her "punishment" for her behaviour in my class.

When he left, he was beyond angry. Somehow, I didn't give a damn about his hurt feelings at all.

"I am sorry," is the only thing she says and her face tells me she means it. Although I don't learn what exactly pissed the esteemed headmaster of, I do not press the matter.

"Why?" Potter asks a short while later when she is leaving.

"Why what?"

"Why have you been helping me?" Her question catches me of guard and I do not know the reasons for my sudden madness but I give her the truth. A part of me is convinced she deserves to know.

"When I was at school, I was friends with your mother. It's partly because of my promise to Lily."

"Partly?"

I nod. Glad she leaves it at that because I myself wouldn't know the answer if she asked me what was the other part. I only know that up until this year I protected her only due to my oath and found the whole thing quite cumbersome. Now, however...

"Have a nice evening, Miss Potter," I say in dismissal. I have a lot to think about.

"You too, sir. And please, call me Alessandra in the future," she says and exits my office without waiting for my response.

* * *

**AN:** Dear readers and reviewers,

I know I promised a couple of chapters ago you will be finding out the identity of HIM soon but you will have to wait two or three chapters more. However it shouldn't take so long for me to update as I have a bit more time at the moment.

Thank you for your support.

Reviews of all kinds are always welcome! ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: **Dear readers,

I am well aware that my notes are usually at the end of the chapter, however I feel the need to give a little warning. This particular chapter has been very difficult to write and I hope to have done it justice.

As always reviews are very welcome - especially for this chapter. I am interested what you think of it as well as the story so far.**  
**

And now to the warning.

**WARNING: Mature content and violence in the end of the chapter!**

**I have marked the beginning of the critical part with **** and the end with *** for those who would rather skip that part.**

* * *

**11. Chapter – Halloween**

"_Sometimes you trust someone who turns out not to be honest. There are a lot of things that happen in life that don't turn out the way you're given the impression that they will. And I think that's all kind of a con. But I think we've probably all been hurt.__"_

_(__Sigourney Weaver__)_

It's Monday morning. When I see Spoiler among the post owls, I know the intuition not to eat anything for breakfast was the right one. After I have "ditched" the meeting with _him_ on Saturday for a detention with professor Snape – even though I have sent _him_ a letter of explanation on Friday evening – the contents of this letter will probably make me even sicker than usual.

"_My darling girl,_

_I was ever so sad we couldn't meet. I was really looking forward to seeing you again after the long weeks of your absence... And now, from what Dumbledore tells me, there will be no more Hogsmead weekends until the Christmas holidays. But I miss you so much! I need to see you before then! _

_Damn the greasy git! Given you detention on the day we should meet. I hope you'll make his life a living hell. I sure will..._

_..."_

As I expected it makes my stomach revolt and my blood boil. Trying to guilt trip me into sneaking out of the school for a secret "rendezvous". Trying to make me feel guilty about missing the meeting. Reminding me that in less than two months time I will have the same problem to worry about. Christmas.

_I hate you!_ I am not able to spoke those words aloud but I can imagine shouting those three words into his face. I am pretty sure it would make me feel better.

After dry-heaving over the toilet I incendio the letter with a flick of my hand to let out at least a sliver of my feelings. In mere seconds there are only ashes left which are easily vanished with another movement of my wrist.

Here, in the privacy of the cubicle in the ladies' rooms I can indulge in a bit of wandless magic. Besides it is always good to practice.

I join the streams of students going to their classrooms. I shove the letter and the whole matter of Christmas and what it possibly could mean for me into the back of my mind and concentrate on what we are supposed to learn in today's lessons. Later I will have to formulate at least a short reply but for now I will focus on distracting myself from the reality of my mind.

* * *

That night is another night when I can't close my eyes. As with the Hogsmead weekend and the possible of meeting with _him_ I have pushed all thoughts about Christmas into the recesses of my mind. There is too much to think about. Too much to process that any more stress and issues could easily speed up the breakdown hovering on the not so distant horizon.

This time I was able to avoid seeing _him_ and everything from happening again. However, will I be able to find an excuse to stay at Hogwarts? Would it be even enough to stay away from him?

With Dumbledore no one can be sure what he would and wouldn't do. Chances are he would invite _him_ to stay at the castle. To keep an eye on me. Or to break me. Because he knows how close an eye _he_ has been keeping. Or at least suspects.

Christmas.

I won't be able to get around that with the help of the Potions Master. After all, he can't give me detention for the whole holidays. Not only because he has enough work to do and deserves some time off from the students and the two maniacs playing chess with people and creatures alike, but also because there is some strange rule of no detentions during the festivities.

I really wouldn't mind if the regulation could change just for this year. Sure I enjoy celebrating Christmas at Hogwarts with my friends or with the Weasleys at the Burrow, especially after having never been allowed to participate in the celebration in the Dursley' household. However, with the fact that my friends do not talk to me (apart from Luna) and will go home to their own families anyway, I don't see much sense in celebrating the muggle Holiday (from what I read in a book called Wizarding Etiquette and Customs the more traditional wizards follow the Old Ways and thus gather on the winter solstice to celebrate Yule).

For similar reasons I can't ask Hermione nor Ron to join them for the holidays. For one, we don't spend so much time together anymore and to be honest I prefer it that way. Secondly, they will be with their families, enjoying their time together. With the war in the wizarding part of Great Britain it isn't certain whose name will be next on the death list. And lastly, I am quite certain that even if I were to be invited to one of their homes Dumbledore would have much to say against me joining them. Their homes aren't well-protected and I can't put myself, much less them in any danger.

Since my fifth year I wonder what would happen if I let myself be captured by the Death Eaters. Maybe they would be better hosts than the Dursleys and the imprisonment would definitely be better than... _him_. There can't be anything worse than... _that_.

Of course, there is also the high chance of me being killed on sight by Riddle, although lately, I don't seem to care all that much.

Theoretically, I could ask Luna whether I could stay with her over Christmas but I am not naïve. The old man would never allow it.

Running off seems like a good idea. Unfortunately there are several drawbacks. It would only cause more problems for me when I returned after the winter break. Oh the questions, the interrogations and suspicions that I turned Dark... I can imagine such a scenario very well.

What's more there is no guarantee Dumblebee and his birdies wouldn't somehow track me down. To that I would prefer offering Tommy boy my wand.

If I could only be at two places at the same time...

* * *

Today is Halloween. The day, my parents died and my life changed drastically. I was so naïve before I entered the world of magic. Thinking my lightning scar unique and one of my best features. This changed after only a few days at Hogwarts. Though I was not a freak or a disgusting girl anymore, I was still reduced to a scar. Honestly, I am still not sure which is worse.

I wonder whether this year will be calm as the last one or if something dramatic will happen as it usually does. In first year the attack of the troll, in second the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, in third Sirius' attempted break-in in the Gryffindor tower, in fourth year the Goblet of Fire mysteriously spitting out my name and in fifth year... I can't recall what happened then. That year I have been rather busy trying to figure out what was going on and fighting Umbitch.

Upon entering the potions classroom that day I nod to Snape in greeting and he inclines his head in response. I still remember how I felt myself freeze when I was in his office on Saturday. I am well aware that he had every right to ask me those questions and to demand some answers and as a Potions Master he could have easily slipped me some truth serum. Therefore I am even more grateful he let me off the hook.

When I made the deal with him I thought he would order me to clean up his classroom, wash some cauldrons or prepare some disgusting ingredients right upon my entrance. I would have never even dreamed of coffee, cookies and a quiet conversation about potions. But then again, this year Snape sure as hell changed his attitude towards me. Behind the curtains in the very least. And although I wasn't able to relax completely, I was the calmest since the school let out in June.

It was really surprising to hear him admit to being friends with my mum. I hadn't anticipated such admission but when I think about it, a lot of things make better sense now. I wonder whether they were just friends or more but I won't pry. Maybe, just maybe he will be able to tell me more about my mum than about her skill in Charms and her house affiliation. However, I won't get my hopes up.

* * *

Before I go down to the Halloween feast I light up a candle for my parents in the astronomy tower.

_What would you do if you were alive? Do you see all that is happening? Would you hate me for doubting the "Light" side?_

The Great Hall is decorated with dozens Jack-O-Lanterns, there are bats flying around and the candles floating above the tables are dimmed as to make the atmosphere more mysterious and dark. It matches my mood nearly perfectly, only there is still too much light in the room.

I glance at Luna and mouth a silent hello to her. She smiles at me and it reassures me that I am not quite alone.

The old nutter makes a speech about the losses of the first as well as the current, second war and the hope of defeating the darkness in the world. I listen only half-heartedly to his words. They are just empty words, after all. Besides isn't the Light side of the war just as black as the Dark one? Only covering its true colours with a smiling face and bright shades?

Soon the noise in the Hall gets too much for me. Have the Gryffindors always been so loud?

I need to be alone.

When I walk to the door I feel a gaze on me. This time it is neither Snape nor the headmaster. Firstly, I would recognise those stares on my back and secondly, Snape hasn't attended the feast at all. Probably, he was called.

The stare feels intrusive and the intention of the person responsible can't be very nice for me. A shiver runs down my spine but I refrain from turning around. I quicken my pace and when I am in the Entrance Hall I turn towards the dungeons instead of following my usual route in the Gryffindor Tower.

I am not very far past the entrance to the Slytherin common room when I hear footsteps behind me and a voice calling my name. I stiffen. _Surely he hasn't followed me. He has just been going into his common room._ I try to reassure myself.

Malfoy is standing not even seven feet away from me and he has a strange expression which doesn't help my state of starting panic.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A little lioness in the snake pit?" He sneers at me in nearly perfect imitation of his father.

"Hello, Malfoy," is the only thing I say in return. I don't have the energy or the will to argue with him. Arguing with him would be pointless and childish. Plus, I really don't have a good feeling and therefore am already searching in my mind for ways to get from this confrontation unscathed.

When he starts closing in on me with an indescribable glint in his cold grey eyes, I try to back away unnoticeably but I am already close to a wall. I am trapped.

I don't know what he is doing. He has never acted like this before. At least not when I could have witnessed such a behaviour.

He doesn't speak while nearing me and this unnerves me more than anything. The feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach increases but before I manage to point my wand in his direction to protect myself he punches the muscle of my lower arm. The pain is too much and I lose hold of it.

And then, he is pressing me into the wall.

And I am losing myself. Losing myself because I know where this is going.

****** !Warning: Mature content/Violence! ***  
**

Suddenly, it is like a floodgate has been opened. All of the memories, all the times _he_ was pressing me into the mattress, memories I have been desperately trying to forget are there.

I don't know where I am. Am I in the dungeon corridors or back _there_? Who is it ripping my clothes to shreds and whispering, whispering twisted words cutting deeper than Vernon's belt?

"... you're such a slut..."

"_... I'll make you feel good..."_

"... you will be such a good fuck..."

"_... you're beautiful... like he was..."_

No! No! No-no-no-no-no- "NO!"

Not again!

I try to fight back but the person, be it Malfoy or_ him_, is too strong for me. Especially since I am not in the best of state.

My attacker knocks my head so hard into the stone wall behind me I fear for a moment to lose consciousness. But I am (un-)lucky. I continue to struggle even though I know my resisting is futile.

I won't give up. Not this time. I can't take it anymore.

I hear the telltale sound of a zipper being opened and I increase my efforts. However it doesn't help.

The person closes one hand on my mouth to keep me from making any noises although I doubt it is necessary. Everyone is still at the feast. The other is pushing up my skirt and trying to pull down my panties.

...

***** End of Warning *****

And then, all of the sudden the _monster_ is not there. Absently I register some crashes and flashes. However I can't seem to pay more attention to what is happening around me as I fall to the hard floor and curl myself into a tight ball while trying to cover myself with the best of my abilities.

Oh God...

There seem to be not enough air and I am feeling dizzy. My head is swimming with my memories while simultaneously my mind is trying to process what just happened.

There is someone kneeling next to me and I flinch violently although the person doesn't touch me or come closer. I am pretty certain this is not my attacker.

He or she is saying something but my brain can't grasp the meaning of the sound.

The only word that comes out of my mouth when the person seems to be expecting something from me is: "Severus."


	12. Chapter 12

**12. Chapter – Angry **

"_You don't repair that relationship by sitting down and talking about trust or making promises. Actually, what rebuilds it is living it and doing things differently - and I think that is what is going to make the difference.__"__  
__(__Patricia Hewitt__)_

Soon after my last class today I feel my mark burn. As the good minion that I am I immediately make my way out of the castle and to my "Master's" side. In the usual meeting hall there are already many black clad figures waiting in a submissive pose with the Dark Lord watching them carefully from his throne-like chair.

I make my way to the pedestal in the front of the room to sink down on one knee, bow my head and mutter "My Lord" with enough but not too much devotion and reverence in my voice. After decades of having served him I consider myself somewhat an expert in pretending to be one of the most loyal without shouting it into the world like dear Bellatrix does.

Fortunately, I haven't been the last to appear so I am certain I won't be punished just yet. Then again the chance of leaving the delightful presence of the Dark Lord and his minions without the residual shivers of the Cruciatus curse is close to none so I won't let my hopes up.

As I take my place in the first row in between Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange, I ponder the reasons for today's summoning. Seeing that this is the first time since the summer I have been called to one of these meetings there is not much for me to go on. Although, it might not be necessary because today is Halloween, the day our dearest Master "died" for lack of a better word, and since his resurrection he hasn't failed in causing some mayhem on this day. I just hope Potter stays unharmed.

* * *

Rather surprisingly the Dark Lord doesn't torture/punish the last one, a newbie by the looks of it.

"It has been long since we have done something to remind the public of our presence. Therefore, on this day you will go to various locations to show off our unwavering strength," Voldemort proclaims and to this most of the lower ranked Death Eaters shout out in jubilation. The Inner Circle seems to be equally elated by the prospect of torturing, maiming and killing some innocent bystanders but they don't show their joy so ostentatiously.

Our Lord raises his hand and silence immediately descends on the room as if someone had casted a Silencio on the room's occupants.

"However," he pauses and looks everyone straight in the eyes. Most of the younger followers shudder when met with the unnatural red eyes. You cannot really get used to seeing them and even those of us familiar with the ways of the Dark side and the dealings with the Dark Lord aren't quite unmoved by their coldness and power they hold. "There won't be any fatalities unless absolutely necessary. You will refrain from torturing and maiming anyone."

What?!

Upon these words everyone present is bewildered. Our "Master" has never ever issued such an order. In fact his wishes have always been quite the opposite. The minions exchange confused glances and shuffle nervously at their places. A covert glance at the rest of the Inner Circle reveals their puzzlement at the uncharacteristic order.

What has caused such a change? Does it have anything to do with the Dark Lord's strange behaviour over the summer? Unfortunately, it is neither the right time nor the right place to ponder such matters if I don't want to get myself killed prematurely.

"My Lord, do I understand correctly that we shall cause damage without actually harming anyone?" Lucius voices one of the questions running through the majority of the people present.

For a moment I think Voldemort will punish Lucius for questioning him as the anger in his eyes is quite apparent. However, to my astonishment he only sneers in affirmation and then continues to command his followers into small groups. They are to prepare for the planned attack before their scheduled departure shortly after nightfall.

When the Dark Lord calls my name he directs me to prepare some exploding as well as healing potions. After I bow I exit the hall quickly as I do not have much time to finish what is required of me. Luckily the lab at the Slytherin Manor is very well equipped and stocked so that I won't have difficulties due to the lack of ingredients and the space allows me to work on the potions simultaneously. I guess it is one of the perks of being a Dark Lord and having good resources.

* * *

Although I am covered in sweat and the students would be for once in their lives justified in calling me greasy, I manage to complete my task in time.

I present the freshly corked vials to Voldemort but he just motions for Pettigrew to distribute them amongst the groups. Afterwards he gives a short speech and warns against failure. I wonder whether I will have to join the raid but I am ordered to stay behind.

When the last man leaves the room, the Dark Lord leans back in his throne-like chair and starts stroking the head of his snake absentmindedly. Though I am certain nothing misses his attention.

"Tell me, Severus, what is going on at Hogwarts." Meaning, what does Dumbledore do and what is Potter up to.

"There hasn't been an Order meeting since the summer or if there was, I wasn't invited. And the old coot is increasingly close mouthed," I say and he lowers his head to look at Nagini before he asks as if not caring for the answer: "And Potter?"

However, I know better. Even though he is a master manipulator and very good at wearing masks, pretending, lying and deceiving there is something different from the way he speaks out her name. There is definitely interest and bemusement in his voice and his expression reminds me of the one he had during the summer meetings.

What is going on?

I force my attention back to present and to the impatient wizard in front of me. "Potter has... changed. She has lost a lot of weight and she seems to not sleep well. There are dark circles under her eyes and I haven't seen her laugh since the term resumed," I state. There is no way in hell I will tell him about my suspicions or about my closer observations. However, I can't not tell him something as there are many Death Eater children attending the school and the well known facts would surely reach Voldemort's ears.

"I haven't seen her speaking to her two idiotic cronies for several weeks. Instead she spends more time in the library with a Ravenclaw girl. Also the other teachers have been nearly unbearable about how she improved in all of her subjects."

He doesn't look up from his snake or give any indication that he heard my report. It is quite disconcerting. From the Lord before this summer I would have expected to be enraged and to order me to find out what is going on followed by a round of Crucio. This lack of reaction is quite disturbing. If I didn't know better I would say he is worried. However I am neither crazy nor suicidal to let such a thought linger in my mind.

"How is she in potions?"

"The brat is one of the best students I have taught."

After a long contemplative silence he asks yet another question. "What is Dumbledore's reaction to this?"

I wonder where this conversation slash interrogation is going. Though I have always been required to get information on Lemon Drop and his Golden Girl, the Dark Lord has never been quite this interested in the information. Nor has his interest been more than wanting to unveil the weaknesses of an enemy.

"He seems to know what caused the change in her," when I say this I am taken aback by the flash of anger in Voldemort's eyes and it only adds more questions to my list.

* * *

As soon as I am back in my quarters at Hogwarts, I take a long hot shower to loosen up my stiff muscles and to wash off the grease and potions' fumes. Thanks God I do not to have any real pain to deal with...

All the while my brain is in top gear, trying to figure out just what is going on with the leader of the Dark side. Unfortunately, I can't find any possible reason for him to change so drastically in such a short time. Especially considering the direction of the change.

Over the years the Dark Lord became more and more insane and we – meaning his followers – witnessed his descend into the darkest of arts robbing him of the rest of his sanity. Now it seems as if he were regaining some of his lost sanity, which in and of itself wouldn't be such a bad thing. The Dark Lord was after all more bearable and easier to deal with when he was younger. Furthermore, his goals at that time were unquestionably more reasonable.

No, the question is what is behind this change? Is the change permanent, or will he torture his followers and the innocent bystanders left and right once again?

If I didn't know better I would say it has something to do with Potter, considering how closely the lives of the two of them are connected. This assumption would also be supported by the fact the Dark Lord isn't the only one who changed over the last months. However, I can't think of anything that could link their current unusual behaviour.

My musings are interrupted by the alarm signalising someone is coming to my office. I wonder who that might be at this time of day. As far as I know every student is supposed to be at the Halloween feast.

No matter, I will find out soon enough.

I seal the note with (some) information about the Death Eater meeting and send it through the fireplace in my living room into the headmaster's office. He will read it in his own time.

Ah, yes. There is the knock. From the sound of it it's urgent and so I just sigh in commiseration over another peaceless evening and stride over through a hidden door into my office to deal with the crisis.

* * *

When I enter the door into the corridor it takes me several seconds to comprehend the situation.

Nothing could have prepared me for this.

There, in my doors, stands Blaise Zabini looking like he has been in a fight, with armfuls of a shivering mass in his Slytherin robe, seeing as he isn't wearing one. It takes me all but ten seconds to recognise the quivering mass for what, or rather who it is.

Potter.

I try to shake off my shock as my mind is coming up with different scenarios which could explain the situation to me. All I can say with a near absolute certainty is that this mess isn't caused by the Dark Lord.

I motion the seventh year student to enter and after short consideration I lead him into my private quarters. He puts his burden on my sofa and takes a few steps back hurriedly. A moment later I understand why. The girl is huddling together, trying to be as small as possible, shaking violently all the while and when I kneel beside her she appears to be trying to become one with the sofa.

She is in shock.

"Explain," I bark out while procuring a vial of Calming Draught from one of my pockets. Thinking back on our confrontation in the first week of term, when she broke down, I keep talking in a soft, soothing voice in order to get her to swallow the potion while listening to Zabini's words.

"I left the feast early and when I was by the entrance to our common room I heard someone fighting not far down the hallway. When I investigated I found Malfoy trying to force himself onto her." At hearing this I am furious. Rape and sexual violence in general is regarded as one of the worst crimes in the wizarding world. Not even the Death Eaters participate in such horrendous activities, not only because of the consequences if Voldemort found out they did.

Taking care of Potter is more important at the moment than murdering the disgusting cretin. Therefore I force myself to keep the fury at bay. For the time being.

I clench my fists to stay as calm as possible and nod my head to indicate to Zabini to continue. "I fought him off of her, stunned him, bound him and took his wand just to be sure. I'm not quite sure I was in time and she has been quite unresponsive apart from saying your name so I thought it would be best to take her here."

I am a little surprised Potter wanted to be taken to me if I don't misunderstand, however I can't ponder this little mystery any further as the girl heaves. I manage to conjure a bucket for her to throw up in it instead of on my sofa.

"Evanesco," I mutter and force her to down first a Stomach Settling Solution and then the Calming Draught. It is apparent she won't calm down on her own even a little. I run a hand through my hair as I observe the potions taking effect. When her green eyes start to clear I summon a blanket and wrap it around her to keep her warm. As I start to take my hand back she suddenly grabs it, looks at me with such a helpless and miserable look in her eyes that when she whispers almost desperately: "Please... don't leave me", I can't say no.

"Mr. Zabini, thank you for your assistance tonight. 40 points to Slytherin. If you could move Mr. Malfoy into the unused classroom next to the Common room, I would appreciate it."

I see the worried look in his eyes when he glances at Potter's small form but understanding my words for the dismissal it is, he takes his leave without any further ado. This way I can concentrate on the girl better and not worry about anything else.

The shivering is decreasing as the Calming Draught takes effect but she is still in no state to talk. However, as I need to know whether she has been injured in any way, I carefully perform a diagnosis charm.

The roll of parchment gets longer and longer as the injuries she has received in the last few months are listed. I ignore the length of the parchment for the moment as I read the part with the information about her current and recent injuries.

What I found is... There is no word for it. The fury I put in the back of my mind is back only increased tenfold. Who did this to her? What disgusting pig would dare violate someone in such a way?

It takes all of my willpower to hold onto my agitated magic wanting to be unleashed to punish, to kill the one who dared...

No, I can't get ahead of myself. I have to treat her injuries, calm the girl and make her talk so she can begin to heal.

Right, she has a slight concussion and some bruising on her arms and neck. I summon the necessary potions and after explaining what they are for I hand them to her.

"I'm sorry," she mutters so lowly I barely catch it.

"What are you sorry for?"

"For being such a burden and intruding."

I sigh. "You are no burden to me.

"Do you want to tell me what happened tonight?" I ask after a moment.

She shakes her head but I inform her that that wasn't a question. She draws her knees even closer to her torso and in the silence while she is in her thoughts I get up from the floor, order some tea from the kitchens and sit down on the other end of the sofa to give her some space and at the same time to show her my support.

Somehow I know prodding her into speaking won't get us anywhere and so I can only wait patiently. We sit in silence for what feels like hours but then she tightens her arms around her bent legs and starts recounting tonight's events.

"I left the feast early to be alone. Someone was watching me leave and the stare was making me feel uncomfortable so I decided to go to the dungeons. I didn't notice I was being followed until Malfoy called my name..." She swallows and it is obvious she struggles to control her reaction and possibly fear and though it pains me to see her like this, I stay silent, letting her find the courage to continue.

"First I thought he was looking for a fight," she says and I hear self-deprecation in her voice. I wonder why that is but I do not voice my question. "He..." she starts. However, it becomes clear the necessary words won't leave her lips despite the Calming Draught which helps loose one's tongue.

"I tried to fight him off... but he was too strong..." is all she says in the end.

"What did Malfoy do?" I attempt to coach her to admitting aloud what exactly happened to her.

She looks to be trying to say something but then she just shakes her head as if she could get rid of the truth this way.

"Did he rape you?"

She flinches and shakes her head but doesn't say anything.

I sigh. I have never been good with this emotion stuff but after years as a teacher and Head of Slytherin I know very well how important it is to talk about any negative experiences in order to overcome them. Keeping the hurt to oneself hinders any possible healing.

"Miss Po... Alessandra, you need to talk about what happened to you if you want to get pass this incident," I say. "If you want to talk with someone else about it, I can call them but the longer you keep it to yourself, the harder it will be-"

"I don't want anyone else to know," she interrupts. I nod and wait for her to say something else.

After about five minutes she takes in a deep breath and whispers: "He didn't... He tried but he didn't... ra... rape me."

The scan already told me this. Nevertheless I am glad to hear the confirmation from her. Thinking back on the scan results I ask though, really, it is not really a question: "This was not the first time something like this happened, is it?"

* * *

**AN:** Heya, sorry for the cliffhanger. I thought I could manage to put the whole aftermath of the assault in one chapter, however somehow it just didn't feel right to put it whole just from Severus' point of view. I promise thought, next chapter the mysterious "he" will be revealed. ;)

Thank you all for following and offering some feedback as well as constructive criticism...


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